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thdorkmagnet · 1 month ago

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See Me For Me (Turtle Tots: Before the Rise)

@flufftober 2024 Day 6- Mistaken Identity

Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Chapter Summary: Splinter doesn't always pay close enough attention to his kids on bad days. Sometimes it leads to hurt feelings.

A/N: Soooo, hurt/comfort is allowed as part of flufftober and I'm very much taking advantage of that with this chapter. (It also won't be the last time I do)

Apologies in advance, this was the first thing I thought of when I saw the prompt. *points to that one scene in Turtle-dega Nights*

Disclaimer: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles belongs to Andy Suriano, Ant Ward, and Nickelodeon. All rights belong to them.

Donnie took a deep breath, tucking the drone he had spent the better part of three months making under his chin. It was fine. He was going to like it. His brothers had liked it, so naturally his father would too. Especially once Donnie explained all the ways his dad could use it in his everyday life. His dad loved when he made things easier for him, where he could be even lazier than he usually was.

Yes, he shouldn’t be doubting his genius, his father was gonna love it and that was that.

After all it wasn't like Papa didn't… appreciate all the inventions and improvements Donnie made around the lair before, he just never said it in so many words. Or any, actually. But- But that wasn't the point! He was gonna love Donnie’s drone and adopt into his everyday life the way he did with all the other stuff Donnie made him.

Yes. If anything his greater concern should be on keeping his dad hogging it all to himself, since it was so useful and everything. After all, Donnie’d had to practically pry the remote control from Leo’s hands the moment his twin had realized the drone could actually fly and his other brothers had wanted a turn flying it around too. Donnie had tried not to smile too obviously as he'd proudly supervised their test runs.

His dad would be the same, Donnie was sure of it.

Gathering as much courage as he could possibly muster Donnie stepped into the TV room.

As suspected, his dad was there, watching Japanese commercials, practically melted into the chair he’d been sitting in for hours now. Only his eyes weren’t quite on the screen but the display beside it, covered in old trinkets from Splinter’s past. Or that's where they all suspected it came from, since Splinter refused to elaborate when asked. His eyes were glassy and unfocused and Donnie hesitated a moment in the doorway.

On one hand, his father wasn't watching TV which meant he had a higher percentage of not being ignored but on the other hand…

His father looked so far away from them right now. Donnie wasn't even sure how to pull him back. He shifted uneasily from foot to foot.

Maybe.. maybe this was a bad time.

Donnie weighed between his eagerness and anxiety before braving a step forward. “Father,” he started, voice straining for the words when his tongue rebelled against him. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Dad? Can I… may I show you something?”

Splinter blinked and sort of half turned his way, no sign of recognition on his face. “Mm?”

It wasn't outright rejection (yet) but it still made Donnie breath heavy through his nose. Seems like he had picked the worst time for this. But he was already here and almost had his dad's attention so he might as well continue. “I just finished one of my most recent projects and I was wondering… if you might want to see it?”

Some of the fog faded from Splinter’s eyes and Donnie felt his heart leap with hope. “Oh you have… something to show me?”

Donnie nodded emphatically, excitement burning bright in his chest as he launched into a long-winded rant. “Yes! It's a drone I've been developing for nearly three months now! Off and on, of course, I have other projects I've been working on. It is capable of carrying nearly six hundred pounds of weight and its battery can last for up to 62 hours before needing to be charged and-”

Donnie continued on like that for a while, reciting each and every feature he’d installed into his precious creation, well aware his father would only understand about half of it, if that. He tried not to get too technical, afraid he would lose Splinter’s attention all over again, but he couldn't help it. Inventing may be his passion but there was something about showing off his creations that made it infinitely more rewarding. Like how Mikey brandished all his sketches and paintings, fishing for the compliments he knew he was going to get.

Donnie enjoyed the praise, the feeling of being useful, of knowing just how smart and irreplaceable he was to his family.

By the time Donnie had finished his long-winded explanation, Splinter had regained that glazed over look in his eyes, entire face pinched in confusion. “Ah yes, that is very… interesting, my son,” he said in an obvious lie.

So yeah, Donnie maybe sorta went a bit overboard.

But that was fine! His dad was at least trying to pay attention to him. So that meant Donnie could totally fix this. His dad just needed a demonstration of what his drone could do. Yeah! He was always more of a visual learner anyways.

Hopping onto the chair with Splinter he maneuvered the drone onto the armrest and held the remote out for his dad. “Here, I’ll even allow you to take it for a spin. To see how truly ingenious a creation it is.” Donnie tried to play it cool so his father wouldn’t think he was being desperate or something. Which he wasn’t, by the way.

But instead his dad waved the offered controller away, other hand pressed tight to his forehead. “Ah, no, that’s alright, maybe later.”

Donnie’s smile dropped, the warm bubbly feeling turning into a tight knot in his stomach. He pulled the remote away from Splinter like it had offended him, fingers tapping against the thick plastic as he stared nervously at his father’s tired face. And maybe because he was just too stubborn for his own good, he decided to give one last, desperate try. “Um, if you’d like, I-I could give you a demonstration? Show you how it works.” His dad was going to love it, if he’d just let him see-

Splinter sighed, staring off into the middle distance, no awareness in his eyes as he sank further into his chair. “No, it-it would be better if we waited until later I’m-” He went back to staring at the display, attention honing in on something in particular, though Donnie couldn’t track his vision to tell. “I’m tired,” Splinter confessed and that felt like the end of it.

Donnie swallowed hard, giving a tiny nod. He hated that he had to fight some mystery object for his dad’s attention. It was already hard enough fighting his brothers and the TV for it. But he had no argument left so he just scooped up the drone and slid off his dad’s chair with a lowered gaze. “A-Alright. I’ll come back later then.”

Splinter nodded robotically, back to that haunted, far away look. His words were empty and devoid of life as he muttered, “Yes, yes, show me whatever it is later, Blue.”

And Donnie gasped, the word ‘blue’ bouncing over and over again in his mind. The implication was crushing.

His dad thought he was Leo.

No. No. Why? Was it- was it because they were twins? Because that wasn’t fair! Donnie and Leo looked nothing alike, acted nothing alike. Leo had never invented anything a day in his life. They were twins by choice! Twins by choice weren’t supposed to get mixed up. And not- not by their dad of all people.

Had he not been paying any attention? So distracted in whatever was so much more important than Donnie that he’d just… ignored him. Donnie thought he’d been at least trying to pay attention but maybe that had just been an act to not hurt his feelings. To not hurt Leo’s feelings. Is that why he’d pretended to listen because he’d thought he was Leo and Leo was his favorite son?

Had he even noticed the drone Donnie had been meticulously crafting for three months? Had he not noticed Donnie even though he’d been standing there and talking to him all this time?

Was he really so unimportant to his dad that he was interchangeable in his mind?

Donnie’s eyes burned as he fled the room without another word, squeezing the drone so tight against his chest he felt the metal bend.

His dad didn’t follow him.

Donnie didn’t want him to.

He threw the drone across his room and collapsed onto his bed. It was only once he was hidden under his blanket that he let the first tear fall.

He cried silently, staring at the wall and listening carefully for his dad’s footsteps.

Donnie wished he’d never gone to his stupid dad in the first place.

…

Splinter was stuck. That was the feeling that had persisted the moment he first woke up that morning. Just this general overall stuck feeling.

And not stuck as in physically, it was more like he was stuck in life. Stuck hiding away from society. Stuck existing as an ugly gross rat. Stuck watching the world move on without him, unaware he was even alive.

Stuck in his head, reliving those old, familiar losses again and again and again. He had lost so, so much that some days it was hard to pull himself out of bed and face those losses head-on. His mother, his fiance, his career, his humanity. Gone. Stripped away from him, one after the other.

And there was just so much grieving to do, so much to process that he'd found it easier to just… not. Not think or focus on it. To distract.

But some days he woke up with this all over stuck feeling and all he could do was think about it.

Like today. Sitting in his chair, lost in old, hurtful memories, feeling the time crawl by. The TV was on but the old familiar distraction couldn't break through the rush of numb pain as he heard his mother's last words on repeat in his head.

Blue came in at some point, babbling about something, clearly excited and eager to show it off and Splinter, well…

He tried to listen, he really did, but the haze in his head was so thick it was like nothing could penetrate it. Whatever words managed to slip through were washed away under a typhoon of misery.

And then Blue was on the chair with him, holding something out for him to take. Splinter wanted to take it, wanted to play along, but his head pulsed, a migraine taking center stage and cutting off any chance he had of enjoying this moment with his son.

He just… couldn't today. And he hated himself for it.

Splinter tried to let him down easy but it felt so much like rejection that it curdled his stomach, but the image of his mother's tear-stained face was stark against reality and left him sinking deeper into himself.

Still he tried to offer some reassurance to his little Blue as he felt the weight leave his side but it must have not been good enough because he left in such a hurry Splinter could only assume he was upset. He wanted to go after him but he couldn't seem to muster the energy to stand.

Splinter was stuck.

And he didn't know how to get free.

Minutes or hours passed, time a hazy blur, and suddenly Blue was back. Tugging at his arm, calling his name, practically demanding his attention, loud and persistent and impossible to ignore. It made Splinter’s headache throb in agony, the pain chasing the worst of the fog away as he tenderly massaged his temple. “Blue, please, quiet voice. Daddy has a headache,” he moaned.

Blue did (thankfully) get quiet, wordlessly running off to fetch a bottle of pills and a small glass of water, then waited silently for his dad to gulp them down.

By the time Splinter set the glass aside, he felt more aware than he’d been all day, finally able to focus on his little Blue, offering him the last dregs of concentration he had left. “Now what is it you wanted to show me?”

Leo titled his head to the side and gave him a funny look. “Show what?”

Splinter felt his eyebrow quirk up in confusion. “You were in here earlier to show me something, remember?”

Leo shook his head, mask tails bobbing. Splinter felt his heartbeat pick up a little. Had… had he really been so out of it that he'd confused one son with the other? Guilt stung sharp in his chest as he ran the haze of memories over in his head. He couldn't for the life of him remember which of his little children had been in there before. He'd only guessed Blue because of how noisy he was.

What kind of parent did that?! What poor excuse for a father was he?! He was-

Splinter forced his spiraling thoughts to settle. He couldn't afford to waste time on another round of pity-partying, not when he had a sad son somewhere in need of comforting. That needed to be his focus. He'd already wasted enough on himself today.

So steadying his breath, Splinter carefully asked his son, “Blue, do you know if any of your brothers had something they wanted to show me?”

There was almost an instant nod in reply. “Yeah, Donnie made this cool new drone that he was showing off to everyone! He even let me fly it around a little and I didn't crash it into anything!” Leo puffed out his chest proudly as if that was the biggest accomplishment of his life.

Splinter vaguely recalled that same offer being extended to him before he'd rudely declined. Which, oh boy, he'd really messed up bad this time. It was so, so rare for Purple to let him touch his tech, a show of trust that he'd probably butchered completely.

No scratch that, definitely butchered completely.

Because even though he'd deny it, his baby softshell was a sensitive child who could hold a grudge longer than Splinter could keep his hairline.

He'd be lucky if he was trusted with a TV remote after this.

And then on top of everything else, he'd called him by the wrong name for pizza's sake!

Splinter, feeling like the scum of the Earth, had to swallow hard against the lump in his throat to ask his next question. “And where is Purple now?”

“In his room,” Blue responded, smile turning to a pout. “He's being stubborn and won't come out, even when I offered to play whatever he wanted.” It was then Splinter realized Blue's pout had a hint of worry underneath it.

“I'll talk to him,” Splinter assured, giving his middle child a pat on the head. He had to peel himself out of the worn seat he'd practically merged with at this point, ignoring the pops and creaks of his old bones when he stood. Ugh, wallowing in his own misery was certainly doing nothing for his ex-movie star physique.

Blue followed Splinter all the way to Purple's room, unmistakable worry written on his features. Which seemed to carry over to his other sons as both Red and Orange were sitting just outside Purple’s room, talking to him through the curtain.

Splinter shooed them away gently, promising he would handle it, his three sons reluctantly running off to play. Splinter took a moment to brace himself as best he could before stepping inside, finding a sad little lump curled up on the bed. Purple was facing away from him, so he announced his presence with a very soft, “Donatello?” feeling his heart sink when his baby softshell's shoulders hiked up.

Splinter risked a step closer with soft, careful footsteps. “May I please speak with you, my son?”

“Wouldn't you rather talk to Leo,” Donnie hissed, angry evident even as his breath hiccuped each word.

Splinter cringed and- yeah, he kinda deserved that. He sat on the edge of Purple's bed, resisting the urge to lay a hand on his shoulder. He knew better than to touch Purple when he was upset like this, even if it tore him up inside to ignore the aching parental instincts begging him to hug his sad child. “I am so sorry I did that Purple.”

“Whatever, I didn't care.” The sad sniffles betrayed this lie and Splinter was pretty sure he could see a slight quiver in his Purple's shoulders. It makes Splinter’s heart constrict painfully. He did this. This was his fault.

Still he took a shaky breath and pressed on. “Of course you do. Anyone would be hurt by that.”

Purple seemed at a loss for words, so Splinter continued, very softly, “And I am very sorry for causing you that hurt. I did not mean to confuse you with your brother. You are not Blue, you are my Purple.”

There's a long pause and then Purple rolls over and sits up. Curling his knees to his chest, Purple stares off into space with puffy, red-rimmed eyes. “Then why did you mix me up with Leo? If you know the difference now?” Splinter could tell he was struggling to sound neutral, voice shaking ever so slightly.

He reaches out a hand to comfort but stops himself just shy, remembering to ask, “Are you okay with touch right now, Donatello?” It's only once Purple nodded his consent that Splinter finishes the motion, gently taking both hands in his and squeezing.

He spends a minute thinking of an answer to the question, how much to tell his young child. After all, Purple is just barely eight, far too young to be dealing with Splinter’s issues. He had already put enough on his son today.

No child deserved to carry the weight of their parent's burdens.

So, Splinter chose his next words carefully. “I'm afraid I've been a bit… lost in my thoughts today and it's caused me to not pay enough attention to the world around me.”

“You're like that a lot,” Purple murmured, mad.

Splinter sighed deep, wishing he could be every bit the parent these children deserved. But he wasn't. He could only be what he was, and even that was a gross parody these days. A far fallen disgrace of the man he once was.

Splinter rubbed the top of Purple's hand thoughtfully, finally admitting, “Yes, some days are very hard for me. I will try and do better.” He hoped he could keep that promise. For his kids sake if nothing else.

Still, it didn't feel like enough, especially when Purple's expression stayed flat and unreadable, so Splinter tried a different method. “Would you like to show me your-” Oh rats, what was the machine called again? After a few seconds of frantic mental stuttering Splinter went with, “-invention now?”

Purple made a face and frantically shook his head. Oh. It seemed Splinter was going to need to earn some trust back before he could fully fix his mistake. He tried not to let that hurt show. “Then would you like to watch a show with me? Whatever you'd like.”

It wasn’t enough and Splinter knew it but his children always enjoyed one-on-one time with him, so he figured it would do in a pinch.

“Are you sure you wouldn't rather watch something with Leo?” It was the same question but came out far more broken than the first time, voice quivering and on the verge of tears.

Splinter didn’t waste a second before pulling his sad baby into his lap and wrapping him up in a warm hug. “No, Purple, no. Of course not,” he soothed, trying not to sound absolutely torn to shreds when the first sob reached his ears. He rubbed circles on Purple’s shell, just the way he knew he liked it, shushing him softly whenever he started to shake with the force of his tears.

“Bu-but how do I know you didn’t confuse me for Leo b-because you like him better than me?” Purple hiccuped, grabbing onto Splinter’s robe with both fists. “Do you wish I-I was more like him? I-Is that why I’m replaceable in your mind?! B-Because I’m not good enough-”

“No!” Splinter shouted. It came out choked and ragged and he felt Purple flinch against him. So he took a moment to steady his breathing, then gently cupped Donnie’s face in his hands, giving him a soft smile even when his son avoided his eyes. “No, Donatello. Please don’t think that. Don’t ever think that.”

He swallowed hard, fighting the shudder that ran up his spine, instead tenderly wiping the tears from Purple’s cheeks using his thumbs. “Let me be clear with you, alright? What happened earlier was my own fault, not yours. It had absolutely nothing to do with you or anything you have done.” He added, a bit fiercer, “And please believe me when I say that there is not a single thing I would ever change about you, my Purple. I love you exactly as you are. And I also do not love you any less than I love your brothers. You are all my children and you are all equal in my heart.”

And then, because he had to be sure, Splinter said, “You do not have to forgive me- but please, please, my son, do not let your silly dad’s mistake take away what makes you my unique little baby Purple.”

Donnie sniffed, finally meeting his eyes. They were still glassy but something determined now rested over the tears. “Science channel,” he said simply.

“Huh?!” Splinter exclaimed, startled and more than a little confused by the unexpected response.

Purple’s eyes darted to his hands which twitched nervously. “You… you said we could watch whatever I wanted. I want to watch the science channel.”

Oh. Splinter knew what this was now. A peace offering. Maybe even forgiveness if he could be so bold.

But even more than that- it was a test. Because Splinter hated the science channel with a burning passion and Purple knew that. Splinter could tell he was waiting for rejection, for the trick to finally be revealed. For him to take back his promise and therefore let everything else he’d said to be false and meaningless along with it. Just pretty lies to comfort his son when he was sad. Nothing more.

But Splinter had meant it. He had meant every word. And he wouldn’t dare make the same mistake twice in one day. He wouldn’t make this about him. Splinter would make things right with his son.

Even if it meant watching the science channel.

So Splinter just kissed his son on the forehead and assured him in a bright tone, “Then that’s what we’ll watch.”

Purple relaxed immediately in his arms and Splinter felt his knotted heart start to untangle. He leaned his head against Splinter’s chest and asked, “As much as I want?”

Splinter chuckled and planted another kiss to the top of his son’s head. “Yes, yes, whatever makes you happy, my Purple.”

And well, Splinter couldn’t think of a single moment his son had ever looked happier than in that moment, beaming up at his dad like he’d just won the lottery.

So Splinter smiled back and gave his son a small squeeze, letting him know he was there, present and fully aware. He knew it wasn’t enough- he wasn’t enough- but he had nothing else to offer.

And although it wasn’t perfect, Purple accepted it, burying his head in his dad’s chest and staying there until they moved to the TV room to marathon the science channel.

A/N: Dude it is so hard to write Splinter comforting Donnie while also keeping as close to canon as possible! As Donnie put it, Big Mama was his first positive reinforcement from a parent aged adult EVER or at least in his eyes. Either way, I do believe Splinter did try to be a good parent in his own way, he was just, y'know… dealing with a lot. I have plans to explore more of Splinter's relationship with the tots in some later chapters and none are nearly this angsty, so that's exciting!!

#flufftober2024 #day 6 #my writing #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #save rottmnt #unpause rottmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #turtle tots #donatello hamato #rise splinter #tw: depression #tw: child neglect #splinter is trying okay

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bibibi-tchx · 6 months ago

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what happens when dom is so overwhelmed with emotions he doesn’t know what to do? i imagine he just flops onto the floor and just stares at a wall 😰

mhm anon:

being overwhelmed is such a nasty experience, and obviously because dominik is so little in his headspace- lacking any knowhow of how to self regulate properly- its hard for him to label when hes overwhelmed, and so the moment everything gets too much, its always a bit jarring, but depends on his headspace

like when hes around his tot headspace 2-4, he will just take a seat wherever he is, and begin to rock himself whilst fidgeting with one of his comfort items because he knows that he likes being rocked, and he knows that he likes his Mine and his blankie, so surely this will make all the icky feelings go away?

typically, it does, but when a cg clocks on (which, in all honesty, is never more than a minute or so) he does appreciate some pressure therapy, so theyll place him onto their laps, rocking him once more whilst also wrapping their arms around him which never fails

but, when hes under 2, he will just start to cry. like, it is the default reaction to anything that displeases lil man: no matter how small the issue is, he will just cry because he has no idea how to communicate that he feels icky without using his words-since words are hard when hes that iddy biddy- and crying is a lot more easier for him to do

he’ll start to rock himself again, thats a common motion, but hes so small that it doesnt go as well as it typically does, which can very easily lead to a fit when his cgs dont notice quickly

speaking of the tjd cg trio, this time round they all have hands on deck, but doing it in turns to not overwhelm him

like he’ll stay physically on damian, because damians the biggest and therefore his arms help ground dominik the most- but, finn and rhea will take it in shifts comforting him and doing little things to make sure he aint feeling overwhelmed: turning off any fans, making sure clothes arent too tight or anything

either way, all can be fixed with some cuggles and a bottle !

ty anon <33

#the judgment day #domdom #littledominik #cloves anons #bbie #dominik mysterio #wwe #wwe dominik mysterio #the judgment day wwe #the judgement day

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justyoursicanon · 2 years ago

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'iya, i found your account relatively fast and i love how you write, can you maybe do a story of a christmas party with everyone (saxton hale, ms pauling, the administrator, and the entire tf2 gang)

thanks so much!!

Awh why thank you anon! And I appreciate the feedback on my writing! Its always a pleasure to hear that I've done a well job on giving people well written content! :D

That being said, here is your request! Quite a long one but I hope you like it! :]

You may start reading! ^^

"Pyro! Keep your flamethrower steady there partner! Don't want to burn the cookies before anyone gets to even taste em!" Engineer alerted to the arsonist. Pyro, who had lowered the gas of their beloved flamethrower, nodded happily and replied with a muffled "You got it!" Engineer just chuckled, and turned back to cutting more of leftover cookie dough, using his mechanical hand to fix his turtleneck as his other hand pushed onto the cookie cutter.

"Yo hardhat! Ms. Pauling and Hale are coming soon, just wanted ya to know so you don't gotta rush much when they actually pop up yknow?" Scout came by, glancing at Pyro's freshly warmed up cookies and giving the masked merc a thumbs up. "Well thanks Scooter, do me a favor and gently put these in a pan would ya?" "You got it." And as requested, the Scout gently grabs and places them onto the steel pan, poking them away from each other to create space to each other as to not make them stick once they start baking.

Scout proceeds to push both filled pans into the even,clapping hs hands to dust away the excess crumbs. "Thanks again there son, why don't you go ahead and help Slim with the tree? Think I saw him havin a hard time putting a few ornaments up." Scout snorted at the mention, imagining the marksman on his tiptoes as he tries to hang the different colored decorations. "Alright, I'll go check on Legs and make sure he ain't climbing the damn thing. Cya!" Before Engineer could say his own goodbye, Scout was already gone.

Chuckling, Engineer fixes his goggles and glances at the cookies before hurrying to wrap the rest of his gifts for his friends.

"Merry Swissmass Miss Pauling and Mister Hale, very delighted that you could join us!" Medic greeted as both Miss Pauling and Saxton Hale arrived. To everyone's surprise, Miss Pauling was for once not wearing the usual purple button up dress and and instead wore a nice lavender sweater, paired with a mint scarf around her neck, but still had her classic bun.

As for Hale, he was actually wearing a shirt, a maroon button up with the sleeves rolled up and dark brown shorts, along with his girlfriend, Mags, who wore a brown coat and a red sweater.

"Glad to see you guys too and look, someone else decided to come." As she stated, she gently places a small tv to the counter, turning it on. As static alarmed the room, the sigh of the Administrator appeared, and shockingly in different clothing as well. "Good evening Fortress, I am only doing this once and once only so please make this quick as possible." The Administrator's voice came through. The mercs waved with smiles.

"Alright are we moving on tot he gifts or what?- Hey!" Scout asked, then got a playful shove by Sniper, who acted as if he did nothing at all as he sipped his low sugar hot coco. "What're looking at me for mate? Did nothing to ya." He muttered, obviously hiding a smile. "Why ya little-" "Now now son, don't wanna start a mess before the clock even struck!" Engineer warned, chuckling at Scout's exaggerated sigh and pout, catching the small glares the runner sent to his best friend while Sniper tries to stifle his laughter.

"Actually its already past 12, you all have been too busy talking to notice." Spy spoke aloud, checking his watch underneath his suit sleeve and buries more of his face into his large scarf. The other mercs turned surprised. How could have they missed the time?

"Well then, lets start now. Shall we?" Medic asks aloud, getting multiple agreements. "Cookie time!" Pyro yelled through his muffled mask in the kitchen as he raised his flamethrower in the air. "Pyro be careful with the cookies!"

Medic handed his first gift to Heavy, giving the Russian a soft smile ad Heavy ripped the wrapping paper. "Doktor got Heavy the book he wanted?.." Heavy muttered, genuinely surprised and thankful. "Well of course Misha! You would always talk about it, and it sounded very important to you. I had a few difficulties here and there but Ja, there it is." Heavy gently gripped the book, giving Medic a soft smile back. "Heavy is very thankful. Thank you Ludwig."

Spy removed himself from leaning on the wall in the corner of the living room, getting a small packaged gift out of his suit. He walks forward, nudging Scout's foot with his own. Scout pauses his little rant about on christmas disaster back in Boston to Sniper, and turns to look at Spy in confusion. "Merry Swissmas mon lapin." He states, handing the cleanly wrapped gift to his son. Scout raises an eyebrow but takes the gift, he eyes it before carefully ripping open the packaging and reveals a small sketchbook, about the size as Spy's disguise kit. "Since you have been doing art as of recent, this may be convenient rather then dragging around your rather large sketchbooks." Spy explains, blowing out a puff of smoke. Scout looks at the sketchbook then back at Spy, a smile breaks through his lips and he brings the masked merc into a hug. "Thanks Pa."

Spy freezes in his place, the smoke staying inside his lungs longer then expected. He gently pats the others back before stepping away and out the back door to smoke further. Scout just laughs and shakes his head.

"Miss Pauling." The voice from the monitor speaks up. Miss Pauling takes another bite of her cookie before placing it on the small pate and putting it aside. Turning to the monitor with a curious face. "As for this year's event. I have made the decision to be... Generous. And give from today to January 20th as your holiday. Now if you excuse me, I have more work to do. Merry Swissmas." And the monitor shuts off.

Miss Pauling was left speechless, the other voices in the background fading as she lets the information sink in. "Miss Pauling? Is everything alright?" Miss Pauling shakes her head, then turns to Mags with a tearful smile. "Everything is great, now lets go join the others." Mags smiled and walked along with her.

"Aye Solly! Pass me a cookie will ya?" Demo couldn't even finish his sentence as he was thrown 3-4 cookies from the Soldier. Which led to the other to yell and Soldier yelling back as he ran away from him.

The evening was wonderful, everyone laughing along and singing off tune to Engineer's guitar playing in the background. At some point Scout had convinced everyone to have a snow ball fight outside. Which was a great closing for the night.

The End ^^

#SiC anon writes #team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 scout #tf2 sniper #tf2 demoman #tf2 soldier #tf2 spy #tf2 heavy #tf2 pyro #tf2 medic #tf2 miss pauling #tf2 saxton hale #tf2 margaret #tf2 administrator

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mejomonster · 2 years ago

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Silent Reading chapter 31. Fei Du smdnnf it'd just really funny to me the guy wants handcuffs. Your mind sure is partly in the gutter these past 24 hours. Wanna cuff Captain Luo up huh? Meanwhile you're scarring your mother Tao Ran who had to HEAR that when apparently he's the most vanilla guy alive lmao (Tao ran saying he works so much amd he's so tired he hasn't even contemplated kink is kind of hilarious, I hope his future wife is a dominatrix and they have lots of quality time off uvu). I love Fei Du abruptly reminding LWZ and TR he's a playboy that has a lot of sex ToT its too awkward.

The interrogation room’s door opened, and two expressionless criminal policemen came in, flanking Zhao Haochang to each side and pressing him back into his seat. Shining handcuffs clicked, closing on his flashing wrist, the metal of the cuffs a distant echo of the metal of the watchband, the two weirdly complementing each other.

Magnificent, cold as ice, and sharp.

Looking on from outside, Fei Du narrowed his eyes and assessed, “Your handcuffs are very aesthetically pleasing. Could I get a set to take back as a souvenir?”

Tao Ran didn’t catch up at once. “What do you want handcuffs for?”

Fei Du turned to look at him, then, seeming to realize he’d been indiscreet, only meaningfully curved his peach blossom eyes.

Tao Ran belatedly groped his way to the meaning of this. As a conventional man whose life contained only overtime and home loans, Deputy-Captain Tao really couldn’t appreciate this bourgeois-style lakes of wine and forests of meat. Seeing Fei Du’s disgraceful behavior, he strongly felt his field of vision had been polluted. He then justly reprimanded, “Talk nonsense again and you can get out.”

Fei Du gave a dry cough, properly suppressed his magic powers, which were unsuited to the venue, and didn’t say a word.

#silent reading #lb

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kristiewritings · 3 years ago

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hi, so my friend @kuraiangeliusm was apparently high and asked me for a “tot (tears of themis) men when you kiss them good morning after they had a stressful day" fic so in honor of her high-ness and artem wing here it is

◈↳ characters: luke pearce, artem wing, marius von hagen, vyn richter

◈↳ warnings: spoilers for chap 4 in marius' part.

◈↳ thoughts: i write for 2 games now lol

also no proofread i'm doing this at work :(

➱ Luke Pearce !

rarely ever shows that he gets stressed because he doesn't want you to worry

but he's still human, he can't hide his feelings all the time

honestly when he rants its an honor to be the one he trusts so much

so when one night he ranted to you about his day

you came up with a ✨brilliant✨ idea

you'd pepper his face with kisses for the next mornings!!

one afternoon, your precious lover had a particularly bad day. he entered the 2nd floor with a frown on his face. all he wanted to do was to lie down on the bed and never wake up again ngl same

he told you about his day, and you were happy to listen. his voice contained emotions and you knew he was really stressed. when the time to sleep came, an idea popped in your head.

the next morning, you gently unwrapped his arms from your waist and prepared breakfast for the both of you. a little while after, you came back to find him still sleeping. usually he'd be up first and he would be working already, if not sitting somewhere trying to gain some energy. he must have had such a bad day.

you neared luke's sleeping figure, and gently caressed his back. you kissed his cheek, moving to his chin then up to his forehead. not a spot was left untouched. soon, luke's coral eyes opened, and he saw you. the person he wants to see every morning, and every night.

'how could i be so blessed to have someone like them..' thoughts of appreciation and love about you flooded his mind, until he finally took hold of the back of your head. he kissed your lips with love and passion, taking note to do it again.

more utc!

➱ Artem Wing !

listen to me he always gets flustered even from a kiss on the CHEEK

even hand holding makes him want to

🕳 🏃💨

he had no love life at all so he’s new

he's usually very composed, and he deals with his problems well

but that doesn't mean things don't get out of hand sometimes

at times when pressure really gets to him and he really can't handle it

he'll come to you for comfort and reassurance

he left early in the morning for a trial, and he came home at midnight. you noticed that this has been going on for a week now. once he came home, he rushed straight to the bed to take a rest, completely forgetting that you had prepared dinner.

as his figure passed your eye, you noticed the heavy, tired steps he took. you followed him, and found him already passed out on the mattress. he felt a weight push down the softness of the bed and he craned his neck to find your e/c eyes looking down on him.

"[name]," he whispered with a tired voice. his eyes spoke for him what he wanted. he pulled your waist to feel your body closer to his. in an instant, you felt light breaths on your neck.

the next morning, your beloved was still sleeping soundly, his one arm was still wrapped around your waist. the other was in your hair. slowly & carefully, you freed yourself from the hold of his arm.

his sleeping form stirred a little, but due to his tiredness he failed to wake. after preparing food and brewing him some coffee, you walked back to where he laid. he woke to the first kiss you placed on his face.

he smiled slowly, enjoying the feeling of your kisses. your lips grazed his own lightly, and that had something spark in him. he hesitantly but quickly placed a peck on your lips, his face turning red soon after.

➱ Marius von Hagen !

HE DOESNT EVEN LOOK LIKE HE'LL EVER HAVE A BAD DAY????

LIKE HE'S SO...FREE?????

honestly i can't see it

BUT I MEAN IT COULD HAPPEN???

ok so imagine in chap 4 he failed to save the paintings..

man would probably have a bad day

when marius came home (pls do come home) the frown on his face could not be missed. as you were about to greet him, his frown turned into a smile, to avoid you worrying. but you saw right through.

"marius, what happened?" he didn't respond, instead taking your hand and dragging you to his studio. he sat you down on a soft chair, burying his face into your neck.

you two stayed there for a while, until dinnertime came. when you tried to unwrap his arms, he held you even tighter. a small time passed, he still wasn't moving. the only way to get him up in these situations was to kiss him.

your lips gently dragged over his face, placing soft little pecks on his face. you could feel the corner his lips curve upward as your mouth grazed his. he pulled you in for a kiss, leaving you as the flustered one.

➱ Vyn Ritcher !

again i feel like he doesn't have problems i mean ?????

LOOK AT HIM HE'S SO?????

like his life is together he knows what he wants

but its so ooc for him to be stressed??????

going through my brain for some ideas but anyway

he's usually always calm, always the one comforting you. but that doesn't mean he doesn't need support too. thoughts flooded his mind as he walked back to his home.

when he entered, he saw his favorite person. your eyes were shining beautifully under the lights, mesmerizing him completely. he sometimes truly wondered how he managed to make you his.

his body landed on the couch, next to yours. his tired eyes clearly showing what he wanted, you hugged him tightly. his lips formed a smile as he held the small of your back, drowning himself in the feeling of you.

the night turned into day, and you found yourself on top of him, but this time in the bedroom. his messy hair made him look so beautiful in the morning.

your lips touched his face, in an attempt to wake him up. the man took notice of this quickly and opened his golden eyes. it did nothing to stop your already pounding heart. he pulled you in and kissed your lips, your plan failed successfully.

so i really think (and know) this sucks i just need something to keep me alive rn :( work isn't really busy right now so send me some asks !

#tears of themis #luke pearce #artem wing #marius x reader #marius von hagen #vyn ritcher #vyn x reader #artem wing x reader #artem x reader #luke x reader #luke pearce x reader

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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

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Demigod MC Series: Poseidon

Fishy fishy fishy… I honestly could write 100 more things for Poseidon MC and Levi. I just love the dynamic between an insecure, otaku shut-in and a chill California surfer dead set on becoming his friend.

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena, Hades Pt. 2, Poseidon

For anyone unaware, Poseidon is also the god of horses. I know it's a weird combo, but I didn't write the mythos.

Lucifer

…..

They came out of the portal….

On a horse….

They brought the mortal down to the Devildom…

On a goddamn horse….

There's a demigod on a live horse brandishing a weapon and doing laps around the Student Council Room…

Congratulations, he already wants to pull his hair out!!

Honestly, it would have been preferable to pluck them out of the sea. At least then they'd just need a towel! What the hell were they going to do with an entire horse!?

And his nightmare didn't stop there. Poseidon is a notoriously mercurial god, prone to bouts of anger and spitefulness for reasons far less grievous than kidnapping his children…

Their apology was swift and (seemingly) effective, though the tide waters around the Devildom did rise by several feet for some time…

As for the MC… uh… Well, they're an energetic one to say the least…

Lucifer hasn't met a more active individual since Mammon. They horseback ride, swim, surf, skateboard, and probably do ten other things - the point is, they Hardly. Keep. Still!

They're also annoyingly easygoing… He can't count the number of times they've told him to, "Just chill out," or, "Hang loose…" What does that even mean??

Between having to order a stable made for their horse and just trying to keep up with them, Lucifer already thinks this mortal has caused him more trouble than they're worth… At least they keep Mammon busy...

Mammon

Upon first meeting them atop their horse, Sunset, his first thought was of course:

"I wonder if I sell that...?"

After that, they nearly fed him to sharks for trying to take their beloved steed on same night. Safe to say, he never touched a hair on its head again…

These two had a rocky start, but their relationship mended fairly quickly. As it turns out, the MC is literally one of those "go with the flow" types. You can say it was water under the bridge soon enough.

Mammon actually thinks the MC is a hell of a lot of fun, even if they're super laid-back. Most of the time, they won’t take his drive for money (or fear of his bills) all that seriously and tell him that he’s worrying too much, but they’ll still lend a hand if its on their way.

He finds their ability to control water pretty cool as well. Levi has it to some extent, but the MC can make a whole-ass whirlpool or use water like a whip!

He once begged them to call up some rare fish for him to sell, but they got all pseudo-philosophical on him about how “trading life for material wealth” is “not cool, dude...”

He also made the mistake of challenging them to a splash fight only once…. They managed to drench the whole family with a single wave….

The only thing that bothers him is their weird insistence on being Levi's "Best Buddy…" Why would someone like them even bother with a shut in??

Is it the water? … Probably water. Levi, that lucky bastard…

Leviathan

Thinks they're a big normie, no scratch that, a HUGE normie! The biggest normie he's ever met!! They skateboard and horseback ride for Devil's sake!!

...But they’re also, undoubtedly, the best friend he could've ever asked for.

To be fair to Levi, their friendship was sort of forced upon him. The MC took one look at him, his aquatic-themed room, and his pet goldfish then declared their new friendship status at that moment.

Unfortunately for him, though, they're energetic, extroverted, and generally have little understanding of personal space… aka, an introvert's worst nightmare…

The next month could accurately be described as the MC doing everything in their power to make their stubborn "senpai" like them.

They would drag him out to the aquarium, beach, or pool; they befriended Henry so he could put in a good word for them; and they'd even bring him little gifts or trinkets they'd find on the ocean floor. Pretty shells and stuff like a cat bringing its master a dead mouse.

After he finally began to accept them as a persistent fixture in his life, he introduced them to gaming and anime and started accepting them little by little...

By the end of their stay, these two were practically inseparable. Not just because they like spending time together, but because they figured out they could have a telepathic link due to Levi being part sea serpent.

No matter how far they are, they can always have a chat! (That no one else can hear so people think they’re just crazy...)

Satan

Satan honestly isn't the MC's biggest fan, he generally finds them too loud and gregarious for his liking. But their horse…?

He never really thought that he'd be a horse man... Yet it didn’t really take long for Satan to adore Sunset, their beautiful golden-maned mare. Apparently she's not their only horse, but by far their favorite traveling companion.

Sunset is a wonderful horse - brave, strong, and well-trained. It only took a few weeks before he was regularly sneaking out to the stables to brush her fur or feed her apples...

After the MC taught him how to ride, that was it. All other forms of transportation were inferior to him now.

Satan would ride Sunset everywhere and he looked damn good doing it! It takes all that fairytale Prince Charming thing he has going on and puts it through the roof.

It's a good thing too, because when I say everywhere, I do mean everywhere. Lucifer had to put seals on the House doors to keep Satan from riding Sunset through the hallways...

Of course, he’ll always let the MC have Sunset back when they need her!... with a little complaining but nothing terrible.

The MC doesn't mind much because Sunset likes him and they know he takes good care of her, but the rest of the House is slightly unnerved at how quickly he went horse crazy… What if they brought a giant crab instead?? No one wants to deal with crab-Satan...

Asmodeus

Their body is just scrumptious. Oh, how he could look at their swimsuit-clad figure all day!! 😩

Between the swimming and the fighting, their form is toned to all hell and he can't get enough of it! Yes baby, yes!! Take those clothes off again!!! He'll help~! 😘

When he's not staring at them “totally respectfully,” then he's inviting them out to pool parties or begging them to take him riding...

There are parts of horseback riding he doesn’t like, the smell and the jostling specifically, but there is a kind of… romance to it, no?

He loves having the chance to snuggle up to the MC as they trot around the Devildom! It's so romantic, like they’re his knight in shining armor! (Or his demigod in a damp swimsuit, either works. 😏)

His Devilgram is just full of selfies of him and MC riding on the back of Sunset or sitting by the edge of the pool or them in the middle of a swim meet…

Yeah his Devilgram is now a one part him and one part MC-Appreciation account.

After the pact he'll eventually cool down some and stop staring at them like a sex-object, but even then he'll be at every swim meet. Don't you worry~

Beelzebub

He actually really likes them! It's great to finally have another athlete in the House. 😊

The MC joined the RAD swim team just as soon the coach was able to convince Diavolo that having the child of a water god wasn't completely cheating...

Since swim and fangol practice ends at about the same time, they walk home together a lot and complain about... sports things... (Forgive me, I don’t know sports. Uhm... Rival teams? Coaches? That one drill everyone hates? Stuff like that.)

Beel also can surf, skate, and snowboard so the two have a healthy competition going. They're about on equal footing so they tie often (except in surfing but Beel doesn't think that should count cause they’re probably cheating).

The only thing that he has to watch out for is Sunset… As in, he has to watch himself around Sunset because he absolutely could eat her on accident…

Look, he doesn't want to and he doesn't even like horse meat that much, but even he has to admit there are times he gets hungry enough to consider it…

Of course, he knows that if he ever did Satan would rip him limb from limb then the MC would drown the rest so he really, really tries to control himself… but still… She’s a very healthy horse...

At least he didn’t try to sell her like Mammon. The MC hung him over a shark tank for that stunt… He’d feel bad, but Mammon kind of had it coming.

Belphegor

The first time they met, the MC smelled like beach water and called him "dude-bro…" He didn't like his prospects.

For a while, he genuinely thought that they had a lump of sand where their brain was. They were just too chill!! Here he was saying that he's being held captive and they were like, "Well that sucks, man… I'll help ya, but I've got practice tomorrow. You can wait, right?"

It's not like he expected them to jump on top of it, but some urgency would have been nice…

When they eventually got around to helping him, he was actually looking forward to choking the life out of them for the extra wait. Unfortunately, they apparently had a horse…

Yeah, Belphie found out just a bit too late that the MC could summon their steed to them whenever they wanted and ended up with Sunset's hooves firmly bucking into his back for his trouble…

What followed was Belphegor running circles around the attic from the weapon-totting MC riding their terrifying murder horse until Lucifer finally intervened....

Thank the gods he wasn’t near any water….

As it would turn out later, as long as he's not being held captive in an attic Belphie kind of vibes with their laid-backness… They say they approach life "one wave at a time" or something.

He could care less about what that actually means, but what it translates to is "Stop stressing out and just keep chill" which he's all about.

Everybody should just chill out!... dude…. Nah, he'll let them stick to the “dude”-thing, it feels weird...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me demigods

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nethercomfies · 3 years ago

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Hiii! I hope you’re doing well : )

First of all congratulations on having 200 followers!! You really deserve it and I hope that your blog will continue to grow as beautifully in the future ^^

For the event request would it be okay for me to request the prompt “I didn’t know you could sing” with Kaeya?

I hope that you’ll have a nice day or day and congrats again!!

I’m doing quite alright! I hope you are as well <3 Also, thank you so much, I appreciate it ToT

And thanks for always supporting me, I smile every time I see you in my notifications :) You’ve been there pretty much since the beginning and I’m very grateful for that!

Characters: Kaeya

Prompt: “I didn’t know you could sing”

Content warnings: None; gn!reader

Word count: 629

My 200 Followers Event

You’re a little shocked when you enter Kaeya’s office. You’d come here looking for him, hoping to just hang out and spend some quality time with your boyfriend, but were stopped by on your way there, Lisa who let you know that he was out and might not be back for a while. Having nothing better to do, you still decided to wait for him in his office -- Only to be met with quite the mess. There are papers all over the place, pencils lying around… No wonder Jean is always nagging him. You sigh a little as you begin to pick the loose papers up -- Might as well make yourself useful while you wait for Kaeya to return.

You get a little lost in your task, rearranging things on his desk, sorting notes and letters by date and importance… It’s actually kind of enjoyable once you’ve conquered the worst of it. Lost in thoughts you begin to quietly hum a song that’s been stuck in your mind ever since the last time you and Kaeya visited Angel’s Share and watched Diluc’s bard friend perform. It’s a simple tune, but quite catchy. Under your breath, you sing a few lines of the song as you order stacks of paper and put the ones that seem to be no longer needed away in a drawer.

“I didn’t know you could sing.” The sound of a familiar voice catches you completely off-guard and your eyes shoot to the door, only to see Kaeya leaning against the doorframe with a playful grin gracing his lips.

Heat rises into your cheeks as you quickly look back down at the papers in your hands to avoid Kaeya’s intense gaze. “I got a little distracted there,” you mumble, suddenly feeling very shy. You hear the sound of quick steps approaching you before a gentle hand cups your cheek to tilt your face upwards.

Kaeya looks down at you, his smile now warm and fond, having lost its teasing edge. “It was really lovely… Please don’t feel embarrassed.” He leans down to kiss your cheek, then his eyes wander to the desk. “Did you clean all of that up?” You nod. He frowns at that, shaking his head a little. “You really didn’t have to clean up my mess… But thank you. I appreciate it.” He sits on the edge of the desk, pulling you closer until you end up on his lap, nestled in his arms. Kaeya presses a kiss on the crown of your head and for a while, the two of you just sit in silence.

“You should sing for me again,” Kaeya notes after a while, gently resting his head on top of yours. You glance up at him, looking unsure, to which he just gives you a crooked smile. “I’m serious! It sounded really nice… I’d like to hear you again.”

So, you take a deep breath and push your insecurities aside -- As much as Kaeya loves to tease you, he’d surely know better than to tease you about something you’re insecure about. You trust him in that regard (and with everything else, really). You start quiet, mumbling the words more than anything. It’s strange to sing into the quiet of the room, now without the underlying rustling of paper and when you’re fully aware of what you’re doing. But Kaeya just caresses your hair and sways to the tune ever so slightly, encouraging you to sing a little louder, speaking the words clearer now.

Once you’re done, he grins and gives a little clap, causing you to blush once again. “That was wonderful, really… Maybe I’ll have to ask you to sing for me more often? It would be a shame if that beautiful voice of yours went completely unheard.”

#kaeya #kaeya fluff #kaeya x reader #genshin impact #genshin fluff #chat: requests #about: gravity-gacha #feelings about ascension: events #is he a little ooc? idk #my kaeya is soft for his s/o send tweet

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rrasado · 3 years ago

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Hi this looks like fun!

I have a bad back and bad posture which usually leads to me having a bad time. So can I make a request of g/n reader who takes Lucifer, Levi, Satan, Asmo, and Belphie out for massages platonically. Asmo just likes getting pampered, but I imagine the other four have backs that pop after sitting in one position for too long.

Thanks!

• Massage Mishaps •

I feel like, I personally need a massage myself ToT, this took longer than I anticipated soley because I keep thinking about the demon brothers' backs- guilty as charged I know but shh-

When you take them out for a massage:

He's the man, the myth, the legend- and you audibly heard something crack the moment he stood up to refill his Ink vial.

Thus leading you two to stand within the first spa you managed to rope him at, tread cautiously because if you look away you may find him briskly walking back to do his paperwork so let me say this now, keep a close eye on him.

Luci doesn't like being touched from behind most likely, especially since he has faint scars from a time he's long left behind- the thought of someone kneading their hands into that part of him doesn't please him so he'd explicitly state to keep it only to his shoulders.

Other than that, he seems quite relaxed once he's on the designated bed for it. Once the two of you are settled He'd begin making small talk about the affairs in the Devildom ranging from your current progress to your opinion to his brothers' mishaps.

Whoever was assigned to do him, must be in for one hell of a session because this man's back feels so stiff you'd have to wonder if he had metal for muscles. You wouldn't be surprised if that was the case considering how much the staff was struggling in relaxing him without touching his mid back.

"They ought to practice more of they're expecting me to come back again."

He received a pitiful scolding from you, they were doing their best and besides- you two were here to relax not outright critique the establishment. They even went as far as to close the whole spa in consideration for the avatar of pride! Even if it wasn't part of the agreement-

At the end of it all you two have managed to at least release the unneeded stiffness (literally and figuratively). He may not say it out loud but he did appreciate the fact that you took him out through your own consideration, even if only a part of him was released of its tensed state. Next time should be better, he'll make sure of it.

You're worth a standing ovation if you do manage to convince him to come out- Leviathan has every excuse flung in your direction ranging from game time to socializing to the thought of other people touching his bare back,

This was different from the tropes he'd gush about in his beloved series. You could've taken him to a hot spring or a pool (since you're so eager to get him out) but a massage? At a spa?? Just what exactly do you plan on- besides relaxing.

It took a bit of time before you all managed to get him laying down on the allotted spot, even then he was reluctant on being touched but you managed to distract his focus by asking the establishment if they could play animes osts as background music (you had to explain how music so upbeat and intense relaxes the otaku-)

Your small talk with him consists of random spurs of Otaku rambles along with call outs that may or may not have the staff sweat dropping, Levi's whines come out from either your answers to his far fetched theories or the sudden jolt of detensed muscle being pulled.

I have a hunch that Levi's muscles are already soft and flexible in the first place due to his admiral duties and being good at swimming (?), it's just him having horrendous posture whenever he games in his room for days on end, once the demon in charge got him to lie straight then they're gucci-

"You can't keep saying do it for Ruri-chan and expect it to work- aHH-"

It worked anyways, along with a promise to drop by a game store to check out one he's been dying to try out but pre order said no to him online. Levi does however feel less icky than usual now that he was kneaded back into his actual state.

The massage also helped him realize just how much you two truly work (sure he may be a shut in most of the time but he still does Practical stuff in there to balance it all.) Maybe this trope isn't as bad as he initially assessed it to be who knows.

Now don't get him wrong, it's not that he doesn't want to- it's precisely because he doesn't want to who am I kidding-/LHJ but when you mentioned how you took lucifer once and it went decently well, Satan is already pulling you to the nearest spa.

He is on the neutral spectrum, on one hand he's fully aware and intrigued with the benefits of massaging but on the other hand the aspect of taking time away from his precious reading feels iffy for him.

Until you suggested that he brings his phone so that he can listen to a podcast or audio book, he gets to relax while also catch up on the mountain of books he needs to tackle! Win win.

I feel like he'd also give random trivia about the body should the person dealing with him touches a specific part, he's also interested in the difference between human and demon biology so would that difference also affect how you take in the massage? Surely human realm techniques differ from this spa's craft of therapeutic wonders.

Unlike the previous two Satan is quicker to appreciate the activity, it was beneficial for his own body that and he was able to spend time with you where both are able to accommodate their own needs! He'd never admit it but he's slowly running out of books to lend you everytime you drop by for a reading time-

"We should also try doing it ourselves sometimes"

He's the type to try things for the hell of it, pressure points muscle behavior everything in between- He'd read up on them and try some techniques on you when you're both free, He'd make sure to not bring more harm to your back tho!

Overall the avatar of wrath finds the activity nice, maybe he doesn't initiate it but he wouldn't decline a next time should you want one. His own body could use it after how much he slumps on his chair with a good book.

This is his domain I think that's one thing we can all agree on- between you two, he's the one who's taking you to a good spa he knows. This was only a segment of his planned day for the two of you but massage is definitely the priority.

He's probably on a first name basis with the staff there- they probably already have a spot ready for the two of you complete with complimentary music, scents and tea to discuss-

He'd keep his talk lighthearted! The ambience is relaxing and you can bet your grimm that the staff also join in your chatter- occasionally he does becomes indecisive with what ointment he wants to be used as prep or should he also have a face mask on, considering the time you two have there.

Decisions decisions and Asmo is juggling with them while you simply enjoy the feeling of your body finally being released of it's wince worthy tension.

I can also see him teasing the staff with promiscuous comments here and there (worry not they're used to it and adhere to a strict professional code regardless.) It's just Asmo being Asmo, along the way he does go quiet to relish the feeling in blissful silence littered with satisfied sighs here and there.

"This is the life darling~! Being relaxed as our bodies should be~"

You two would stand up feeling like a new person, he does give them a big tip and would briskly tug you to the rest of your hangout day- a boutique and the likes. And now that your bodies feel good as new now is the time to try out now fits (at least that's what he says.)

You can bet that there are more to come, Asmo may not be the very best at saying it (due to being sandwiched between his other comments) but the time he spends with you knowing that you two are at ease gives him a sense of joy different from what his sin entails.

He's unironically on board, to be fair he's probably tried it once...or twice a few decades ago- we have Beel to thank for that! (Athelete's code shalala) belphie doesn't mind going, what he does mind is getting there in the first place-

The avatar of sloth isn't the avatar of sloth for nothing, I think the fastest way to get him to the nearest spa is to have Beel come along and carry him- in the instance that he's unavailable then you'd have to be very persistent to get him up and at least get there before he can sleep.

Gloriously arriving late and a half awake belphie in tow the staff managed to catch him before he can faint on the marble floor of the establishment.

A massage session with him was, peacefully quiet as expected, but there were a few times where he'd murmur something under his breathe. And you'd think he has crusty joints due to sleeping 90% of the time but surprisingly the staff didn't have much trouble working with him.

I'd say he's the third most flexible brother after Asmo and Levi. Belphie isn't one to complain either unless the hand digging goes deeper than usual, this isn't much of a problem since he does manage to go back to sleep right away. The scented candles aren't helping in keeping him awake either.

"This...isn't so bad..."

The struggle of getting him to the spa was nothing compared to the struggle of getting him to stand up after the session. If you hadn't brought Beel in the first place then you're definitely dialing him now. Belphie's hold on the designated bed is almost impressive but the staff need to manage other clients to-

Belphie probably likes it the most at face value, the massage was definitely in called for due to how much he lies around all day and his body needed the rearrangement in tension. Once you guys are home he can only murmur out a quick thank you, he did like the time spent today.

#Moon Caffeine #Full Moon Foam #devildom delicacies #obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub

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killerskillercaptain · 3 years ago

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Forget Me Not - part II

this work is based on this request by anon

pairing : levi ackerman x reader

wc : 1037

themes : reincarnation au, canonverse to modern au, Levi and Reader both reincarnate in modern au, Levi remembers his past life, reader does not.

warnings : mention of car accident

a/n : everyone is reincarnated here, enjoy !

"Thank goodness you're awake !" said the small young woman entering the room.

She spoke with a soft voice, her hair was a candid ginger color and her eyes were big and bright but full of concern for you.

"How are you feeling doctor ?"

Doctor ?

Oh right, you remembered now, this is the hospital you work at, that's why the room felt familiar, this was one of those rooms were patients would rest after a surgery, you just never actually laid down in one of those beds. You still didn't recall how you found yourself here but you remembered the name of the young woman standing in front of you with a worried look.

"Petra, how did i get here ? What happened ?"

Petra's eyes grew bigger with worry, as if she didn't believe you just asked this question. You always liked her, she was younger than you, and just an intern but she was sharp, efficient, well-mannered and you remember you were impressed by how much recommendation letters she had when she first got here. She also showed a lot of respect to the hierarchy, which is something you appreciated.

"You got hit by a car"

"Really ?" you barely remembered.

"Yes, apparently you were crossing the street when that happened, but it's nothing serious really, you just had a concussion, you were conscious when Oruo and Gunther from the emergency service brought you up here, you must have slept that's all"

You listened only partly to her explanation, pain still shooting through your head.

You couldn't remember the said accident but everything came back to you slowly : you were a surgeon at the Maria Hospital, you lived alone in an appartement on a main avenue and Petra was your intern.

Still holding your head and groaning, you tried to get up.

"Maybe you should rest a little more doctor !" said Petra nervously.

"No, i'm okey, i just need some aspirin and coffee and i'll be back on track. You talked about a concussion, did you do an x-ray ?"

"Yes, everything is fine don't worry"

"Great"

Putting your slippers on, you managed to walk out of the room, making a bee line to the coffee machine tucked in the corner of your service. Pushing some coins down the machine's insides, you heard the familiar clicking of money then another mechanical echo followed by the sound of hot liquid being poured down.

You picked up the cup and let the steam overwhelm you for a moment, drowning the usual background noise of the hospital.

One, two, three. You counted down before opening your eyes again and allowing your senses to take in your surroundings : chatter, cries, the sound of things rolling around, feet shuffling in every direction, and overwhelmed nurses answering the phone.

****

It was 5 pm when you got out of the hospital, you decided to go home early today to get some rest, but also because Petra couldn't stop telling you to. You swung your cardigan over your shoulder, fixed your hair, did a quick stop by the toilet, grabbed a bottle of water at the same coffee machine and stepped foot outside.

It was the beginning of fall, and you enjoyed the shy breeze caressing your face softly, pushing aside some strands of hair. Looking for your car, you suddenly remembered you didn't drive it to come to work today, you had decided to walk instead. You mentally thought that maybe if you had taken your car as usual you wouldn't have been hit by a car. But who knows, maybe if you drove here you would still have gotten hit by the same car, the universe does play some tricks on you sometimes.

With doubled precaution, you were about tot cross streets when you noticed some police cars with their flickering lights and two cars, a red and a black one. The black car had hit the red one from behind and crashed its bumper on it. Petra did say that you got hit by a red car, so it must be that one. You approached the group of people looking at the scenery, and upon hearing what was being gossiped, you understood that the vehicles were still here because the police took ages to come.

The man who apparently was the driver of the red car that hit you was standing, holding his head in his hand as a police officer-very short in stature and visibly pissed-was scribbling something on a note.

More and more people passing by were stopping to watch the scene, which lead to more chatter.

"Tsk ! shut up" said the short policeman, probably more pissed at the commotion than the car crash.

The driver who hit you, suddenly recognized you and his face changed its expression quickly.

"Miss ! Miss ! Hey miss ! You're completely fine right ?"

This threw you off guard and you felt like you were being put on the spot, with so many eyes darting toward you now.

"Y-yes, i'm alright."

"See ? See officer ! She has nothing ! It wasn't that big of an accident !"

But the officer wasn't listening to him anymore, he was looking at you with an intensity that made you uncomfortable, he stared at you with wide eyes and an expression you couldn't quite decipher. He almost looked...shocked to see you.

What's wrong with him looking at me like that. You thought

"She's completely fine officer ! I didn't cause any more harm, so could you ease up a little bit-"

This snapped the short man out of whatever he was in, interrupting the driver.

"You don't get to tell me how i do my work asshole" he spit back at the driver.

Wow, he's so rude, and so angry. You thought, shocked and amused at the same time by his attitude.

You decided you had nothing to do here anymore and turned around.

Once the drivers parted ways, and all legal formalities were done, most of the police cars were gone, except for one vehicle.

The short police officer was still standing right where the collision happened, looking at spot where you were just a minute ago before disappearing inside the crowd. His arms hanging on each side of his body, still baffled

"I finally found you"

part II, next : part III

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officerjennie · 3 years ago

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5 Times Geralt Attempted to Court Jaskier (and 1 time Jaskier succeeded in courting him back)

part 1 || part 2 || tbc

I was looking desperately for an idea and @kueble was looking for a courting fic, so...here's part one for you? Also many many thanks as always for @all-hail-the-witcher who has the best ideas and lets me rant at her when I need help.

CW: None. Geralt is a himbo. Jaskier is very confused. They're both idiots your honor.

Summary: Geralt does research on his own about courting rituals in Kerack and comes up with a rather strange one involving rocks.

WC: 2.2k+

Taglist: pending

After ten some-odd years of traveling with his dear witcher, a spring in his step the whole while and a tune on his lips, Jaskier would have thought the trek would have only gotten easier. His lot in life had been rather lucky considering the dangerous nature of Geralt’s path, only one semi-permanent injury to speak of, and it was really only a nasty crick in his neck that gave him problems in the chill.

No, Jaskier had not been cursed, eaten, or really damaged all that much considering how many scars and tales Geralt totted with him. The journey should have only gotten easier as the years wore on, his legs and the rest of him still young, each step being one of yet more experience - and it had done a right, damn good job of sculpting his arse and legs into something the poets would surely lose their minds over, if Jaskier did say so himself. And he did.

But, then, why, he thought one evening, as sweat poured off of him until he was an unsightly mess behind the infuriatingly well put together witcher, trudging on down a road somewhere west of fuck-off nowhere - why were his legs filled with steel and his side aching?

What should have been a purposely tossled, delightful ‘morning look’ had become instead a wet bird’s nest on his head, hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks, not staying out of his face no matter how many times Jaskier swiped it out of the way. All he could do was scowl at Geralt’s back, grumbling as the witcher soothed his hand down Roach’s neck, mind turning over one single thought as the exhaustion sapped away every bit of energy that he had in him: how on earth was he the mess and Geralt looking so fucking dashing?

It hadn’t exactly happened out of nowhere. Jaskier had noticed his feet had started to drag a few weeks before though he’d said nothing, keeping up with Geralt still relatively easily at first, until their normal pace suddenly became a grueling task that he wanted nothing more than to whine about all afternoon and well into the evening. Maybe into the night, if he thought complaining would get him anywhere.

But something fragile had wormed its way into his heart, and though he could complain and rattle off lists of things that bothered him at the drop of a hat he...couldn’t bring himself to ask Geralt to wait for him. Couldn’t admit that he was slowing down somehow, for some stupid bloody reason, so he kept pushing himself despite the fact that all he really wanted was a nap and a ice cold bath.

“Oh sweet Melitele,” Jaskier breathed a half hour later, the sight of buildings coming into view, and the thought of putting his poor, aching feet up on a chair bringing with it a sudden burst of energy.

“Alright, bard?”

Jaskier hummed, his throat dry from panting all day, swiping his hair out of his face yet again as he refused to look over at Geralt - though he felt the way his witcher was watching him, studying him. Could tell without looking that his face had drawn up ever so slightly into that look he had when he was thinking, and Jaskier really didn’t want to know what he was thinking about when he looked so much like a hot mess (emphasis on the mess, for once).

“‘m fine, Geralt, though I do appreciate you asking.” He breathed heavier, shifting his bag where it was settled across the shoulder, not for the first time feeling like it was digging into him. “That town had better have a decent inn in it, though, one with a tub and not- not just a bowl to bathe out of, otherwise I won’t be able to guarantee everyone else will be fine.”

At his side, Geralt tsked, his shoulder gently bumping into Jaskier’s - though it was, of course, an accident. Geralt really didn’t do physical contact. “Can’t start fights over not getting a fancy bath, lark.”

“Says the man who started one over oats.”

Jaskier felt the scowl Geralt shot his way and promptly ignored it. “They were going to feed her-”

“Point being,” Jaskier cut him off, picking up his pace as much as he could to make it to that blessed respite he could practically taste, “You have no room to talk, starting fights over silly horse problems.”

It was easy enough to ignore the grumbling over ‘not being silly horse problems’, the both of them entering the town at last, Jaskier wanting to sob whenever he saw the inn was even nearby. He made a beeline for it, leaving Geralt to figure out the stable situation, wobbling his way to the front door and swinging it open and reveling in the cool air that blasted him from indoors.

Blessed terrible lighting, blessed scant amount of windows. Jaskier adored the sun but he didn’t want to see it again for a week.

It didn’t take much to convince the innkeep to let them stay, his songs and tales of the glorious triumphs of witchers at least changing a few minds over the continent. The man only raised an eyebrow whenever a witcher was mentioned (though Jaskier hadn’t mentioned him. Someone had recognized him, despite how desperately he just wanted some peace and quiet for once, and one thing had led to another and suddenly he was being questioned over his White Wolf).

But at last, at long last, Jaskier had some keys to a nice room, and the promise of a bath ringing pleasantly in his ears when he turned around and found himself running straight into the hard chest of said White Wolf. He collided into him with a loud oof, almost knocked off balance, saved from the embarrassment from Geralt’s strong grip on his arms keeping him upright.

And Jaskier was suddenly reminded of how much of a mess he must look, and how unfairly god like his witcher was at every waking moment. Unfair.

“Not going to play?”

Jaskier blinked up at his witcher - his friend, he reminded himself - as he tried to process that question and almost failed. “Not going to- oh, uh, well. Didn’t have to make that part of the deal for once, thank the gods, not sure I’m really up for it.”

“That’s not like you.”

Geralt’s gaze at that moment was...oddly intense. He stared at Jaskier as if there was something important on his mind, as if his eyes alone could communicate something - something that Jaskier was quite honestly missing. Tongue flicking out to wet his lips, mouth and throat still terribly dry, Jaskier tried and failed through the exhausted haze of his thoughts to come up with what Geralt might be trying to say to him.

After so long, it had become easy at times to figure out what Geralt wanted to say, or didn’t want to say. He’d practically catalogued all of the different grunts and small noises his dear witcher used in lieu of actual words, and had figured out what words his witcher struggled to say as well.

“You alright?” Geralt stepped impossibly closer, towering over him in a way that stole Jaskier’s last, precious bit of breath, his expression so intense he knew others would call it creepy. Had called it creepy, in fact, though Jaskier had only ever found it suddenly a little too hot in the room, his gut tightening dangerously. “Something seems to be...weighing on your mind.”

“Wha-” Jaskier swallowed, shifting his bag on his shoulder and feeling the awful way his chemise was sticking to his back and chest and everywhere it touched. “No, I, ahh- I’m just a bit, why- why don’t you go fetch us some dinner?”

“It’s just past noon, Jaskier.” “And would you look at the time!” Jaskier stepped back before he made even more of a fool of himself, cutting his eyes away and keeping them firmly elsewhere as he grabbed the strap around his shoulder. “No time like the present, as they say. Who said it, though, I wonder? Not that it matters, but no sense in wasting time; time is rather precious, after all, and it is time. For me to get out of these blasted, disgusting clothes and freshen up a bit. Lest my smell scare away the locals faster than that scowl of yours.”

With that, and a flick of his wrist that almost sent him stumbling over, Jaskier turned and was off. Though he groaned very loudly when he reached some steps he had to climb up, and after pulling himself up them using the handrail he was firmly determined to not step a single toe out of their room after he managed to crawl his way there.

It was a close thing. The room was halfway down the hall and Jaskier really considered it, considered laying down on the cool wood floor and inching the rest of the way there like a worm. All that kept him on his feet was the desperate conjuration of Valdo Marx in his mind, how the man would sneer, laugh, tell the tale of Jaskier The Worm for the rest of their days (and Valdo’s days would be long because not even Jaskier could have that much luck), how Jaskier would never live it down.

Even then, he still considered it, but he walked the last few steps and fumbled with the keys until at last, at long last, he could rest.

Stumbling into the room, Jaskier’s one and only thought was chair. He saw a chair, he needed to sit in the chair, so that’s where his feet took him. The rest of his body tried to get there faster than his feet, leaving him practically falling into it, his bag still strapped to his side and every bit of hair on his body sticking to him in a mess he was desperate to get cleaned up.

But he needed a moment to breathe. Or a minute, or twenty. He closed his eyes and let his body sag into a practical puddle on the chair, though the bag was hanging off of it and it felt like a ton, cutting into his shoulder like he was just some small child that couldn’t manage to carry around a few notebooks and some quills anymore. What on earth had come over him?

He struggled out of it, fighting with the strap and whining pitifully as he did, until he was free of it and dropping it on the floor - and he started at the loud thonk of it hitting the wood below. A thonk that did not sound like the typical thonk some books, quills, scrap pieces of paper, and some clothes would make.

For a few moments, all Jaskier could do was blink down at the blasted thing, mind catching up and making his nose wrinkle as he stared at it. He managed to close his mouth at least, giving a grunt and a groan as he inched his body towards a better angle to stare at it, slinging himself forward into a slump until he could get his hands on it and clumsily undo the little clasps at its front and flop the bag open.

When he rummaged through it, he found his books and quills like usual. He tossed them out with little care at the moment, leaving them all in a small pile on the floor, all of them notably not making that damned thonk that he’d heard when he dropped his bag. And for a brief moment he thought he’d lost his mind over that sound because he found nothing that could have made it, but that brief moment came to an end when he removed the carefully folded up towel that had been placed at the very bottom of his bag.

Or, at least, he thought it had, and then Jaskier was beyond certain he had, in fact, lost his mind somewhere out there in the blistering sun and dusty path. Because what he found at the bottom of his bag had no right to be there, and certainly wasn’t something he had placed there. But it did explain the loud thunk.

Rocks. Dozens of them, of various sizes and shapes. None of them pretty or worth collecting, and when he picked one up he noted they hadn’t even been cleaned off. He was dumbfounded, left speechless, staring at the things like they were the greatest mystery of his life - and they certainly could have been, if he were honest with himself.

Rocks. Rocks. Jaskier made a small noise as he let one slip back through his fingers, landing on all the rest with a clack that reverberated through his confused, buzzing mind. He didn’t even have it in him to ponder much more about them, just gave off a small huff of a laugh, raking his fingers through the disgusting, sweaty mess of his hair as he swept his eyes over all of the rocks.

The ground just below their one window ended up littered with rocks shortly after, and the rest of Jaskier’s day was spent scrubbing himself clean and collapsing into the single bed bare, wet, and bewildered.

He added rocks to the list of things he never wanted to see again. Jaskier was asleep long before Geralt returned with dinner.

#geraskier #geralt #jaskier #jaskalt #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #jaskier x geralt #jaskier/geralt #geralt of rivia #witcher fic #fanfiction #the witcher #mywriting

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spaceman-spaetzle · 2 years ago

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sorry 4 this but now you got me interested: how did u develop ur style? :D its distinct n vibrant n i love it

there's absolutely no need to apologize! this will probably become an incoherent ramble so i'll see what i can do! thanks again for letting me learn about your style too :) <3

i've drawn since i was a tot tbh. i've been told that i was always a bit self critical (do not recommend 0/10), and 3 year old me once complained about how what i drew looked like a potato. but with that came determination and a genuine free feeling that came with drawing.

i think i started actually keeping sketchbooks since i was maybe 9-10? mentioning this because keeping sketchbooks is intrinsic to my work. and like a lot of artists this generation, i was very inspired by anime. i definitely drew anime girls awkwardly standing stiffly with hands behind their backs, LOL. i couldn't decide on a distinct style for a long time though, but throughout my childhood i grew inspired by pop artists like roy lichtenstein.

i hung out with a lot of animators during my uni days, and i found myself studying a lot of artists and animators who had these crazy, dynamic poses and vivid characters. i was in the fandom for a long time, but in the middle of college, i took a break and really began to experiment! my love for inks, which was introduced to me when i was about 14, stuck with me and from there i was able to develop my style.

like you, i've taken all sorts of art styles ive appreciated and sort of made it into my own thing, but from what i learned from my animator friends' art and my brief time taking animation classes, i really wanted to make my art feel bold and full of movement. i still struggle to capture movement the first time when i draw things, so i still have a long way to go! but i guess what really helped me develop my style was establishing my values in my art practice. what do i want to see? how do i wish to draw for myself? those kinds of questions! and that meant crossing out things such as same face syndrome. i also find it really important that character designs say something about the character's personality. so for roderich, i like drawing him in a mix of sharp and soft angles. his pointy nose, chin, and sharp shoulders to me resemble a judgmental aristocrat and the softness resembles the contrast between people's assumptions of him and aspects of him you would have to get to know him in order to learn. i also just generally think he's a bit on the thicc side and a bit soft to touch, haha. i also like trying to vary the body types i draw.

sorry that this was so long! as for artists i like, i tend to follow a lot of twitter artists that have very fleshed out, distinct voices in their styles and i like to learn from them. one of my fave artists is victoria vincent/vewn! and growing up, artists i enjoy include erte, alphonse mucha, and Plenty more. and lately i've been feeling inspired by egon schiele. he makes me want to play with exaggeration and proportions a lot more!

thanks for asking and please know your art just feels very vivid and tangible, if that makes sense? like they're clearly stylized but it feels like there's so much thought put behind the characters! they almost feel real in a sense.

#ask 4 me #:D #this was. really long and i wish i listed more artists but my brain is tiny #also to improve my style i'm gonna try to use color palettes online and improve my sense of color theory #we'll see where things go haha #but Yes you're still welcome to message my dude!

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wiypt-writes · 3 years ago

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Riding On

CH28- Hens, Stags and Cubs Part 2- Stags

Summary: It’s the boys turn as Frank, his soon-to-be Brother and Father in law, and the rest of the Circle Of Truth head out for a night on the town.

Warnings: Bad language, some racey themes discussed, but no actual smut, but just in case- NSFW, 18+

Pairing: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Word Count- 4 k ish

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Ch28 Part 1- Hens

Houston do you hear me? Ground control can you feel me? Need permission to land.

Frank slipped his arms through his blue suit jacket adjusting his shirt and belt once through. The Circle said dress smartly and despite his earlier squabbles with himself over not wanting to really put forth any effort into his stag, he was now looking forward to a few drinks at Ferg’s before hitting up a few of the nicer bars around town that required less tacky tropical attire.

He stepped back, and gave himself the once over in the mirror. He straightened the collar of his white dress shirt, leaving the top two buttons open as he was foregoing a tie- that was a step too far. His hair and beard were both longer having allowed them both to grow out, and he had to admit that he did kinda like it.

It wasn’t the first time he’d allowed it to grow out a little, but had shaved it again when Alex was younger thanks to the fact he liked to fist his hands in it. And damned it, it hurt. However, when they’d been looking through their phones a couple of months or so back for some photos to use for a board at the wedding, Fliss had made an off the cuff comment about how she had loved what she dibbed his ‘Professor’ look.

So he’d let it grow, and Fliss was very appreciative. An appreciation she made perfectly clear every time she’d shudder and purr with delight when it brushed the inside of her thigh as he ate her out, or rubbed on her neck and jawline as he thrust into her.

Nope, Frank couldn’t deny, it had its perks. One, strangely, being that it made him look older. It was an image that seemed to suggest he had all his shit together, a proper, mature father and soon-to-be respectable, married man.

Frank snorted, who the fuck are you kidding, Adler?

Picking a piece of fluff off his suit slacks, he turned and made his way out of the bedroom, cursing angrily as he nearly tripped over Fred who was sprawled at the top of the stairs. “Find somewhere else to lay, you furry orange bastard.” He glared at the cat who merely eyed him shrewdly. He headed down the stairs and then into the family room at the back of the house. Fliss glanced up from where she was sat giving Alex his night bottle and she smiled as he crossed towards the sofa. “Hello, Sailor.” She grinned and Frank chuckled as he gave her a kiss. “You look great.” Frank quirked an eyebrow, “you sound surprised.” “Not at all.” She shook her head. “I just don’t see you in a suit that often. I like it.” “Don’t get used to it.” He deadpanned and she laughed as he stood back up straight. “My cab is about 3 minutes out so...” “Dada!” Alex interrupted, babbling his latest word as he moved his bottle away from his mouth. He made grabby hands towards Frank and Fliss quickly took the opportunity whilst the tot was distracted and wiped his mouth. Alex pushed the cloth away with a loud protest and, smiling, Frank picked him up and pressed a kiss to his head. “Where’s Mary?” “In her den.” Fliss gestured with her head. “She was watching a film.” Frank headed over and opened the door. Mary was sat on a bean-bag, a bag of chips by her side on the floor along with a can of soda. She turned to look at him.

“How many times have you seen this?” Frank nodded towards the TV were Will Smith was currently chasing down an alien through New York.

Mary shrugged, “it’s my favourite.”

“Yeah, it’s your Mom’s too.” Frank chuckled. “Anyway, I’m off now, Stack. Be good.” He instructed and she rolled her eyes.

“You don’t have to warn me every time you go out.” “I know, but I like to.” He replied simply. “I’ll see you in the morning. Love you.” “You too.” She replied, turning back to the film. Frank rolled his eyes, he supposed he should be grateful she’d actually acknowledged him. He made his way back towards Fliss, adjusting Alex in his arms who was now rubbing at his eyes, a sure sign he was starting to get tired. “Come here, baby.” Fliss smiled as Alex yawned and Frank passed him over, before he felt his phone go off in his pocket.

“Cab’s here.” He said, shoving it back in his pocket. With a final check to make sure he had his wallet and keys he leaned over again to give her another kiss. “See you later, love you.” “Love you too, have a good night.” She beamed. Frank smiled as he headed out of the room, casting a final glance over his shoulder, before he made his way to the waiting car. **** Frank took the steps up to the entrance two at a time and pulled open the door. Immediately, a loud cheer hit his ears and he looked over to see the Circle of Truth boys, along with Bill, Steve, his old boss Alan, and a few of the other guys from work all stood by the bar. That in itself wasn’t a surprise. What was, however, was their attire. They all wore identical, bright yellow Hawaiian print shirts and cowboy hats.

Not a suit in sight. He’d been well and truly had.

With a groan, Frank shook his head as he approached, an annoyed and frustrated laugh bursting from his mouth, “fucking fuck you all.”

He greeted them all with various insults, handshakes and it was then that he spotted Steve who had his phone raised, pointing it at him.

“Are you filming me?” Frank demanded.

Steve grinned. “Yeah, Fliss wanted to see your reaction.”

“She knew about this?” Frank asked, although as he said it he realised that of course she would

Steve nodded. “It was her idea.”

That didn’t surprise Frank either. “Son of a…”

“Don’t you be calling my wife now.” Bill thrust a beer into his hand, causing the men to laugh even more.

“I hate each and every single one of you.” Frank shook his head, before he took a drag of his beer and then sighed as a cowboy hat was dropped on his head.

“Looking good, Frank!” Mike Ferguson, the owner, grinned as he dropped a bottle of tequila onto the bar along with a heap of shot glasses. “On the house, congratulations buddy.”

“Cheers.” Frank grinned before he looked round at Greg and nodded to the bottle. “Well, as best man I think the job of pouring falls to you.”

Greg smirked and slapped Frank on the back between his shoulder blades. “Don’t worry Frankie boy, I got you covered.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about.” Frank muttered and Greg laughed, before he reached for the bottle.

*******

Four large beers and several shots later, Frank had completely forgotten the fact he was stood in his favourite dive bar, dressed like a banker and sticking out like a sore thumb. They’d originally planned to hit a few more bars, but as the odd free round of drinks kept getting slipped their way by order of Mike, who himself had abandoned his post behind the bar and was stood with them instead, they’d decided to stay put. Which suited Frank just fine.

“You should come to the wedding.” Frank looked at Mike. “I mean not the beach bit as that’s limited numbers but the party after, you’re more than welcome.”

“Shouldn’t you check with the missus first?” Mike asked and Frank shook his head.

“Nah, she’s cool. Besides, we’ve kinda lost track of how many are turning up. It’s turned into a free-for-all. No stuffy sit down dinner, just food trucks and drinks,” he waved his hand, grinning. “And music. Good music. I can’t wait to see her face when the entertainment turns up.”

“You mean she doesn’t know?”

“Nope.” Frank’s grin grew even larger. “That’s the one bit of the day she trusted me to organise. And it’s gonna blow her socks off. Not that she’ll have socks on…well,” he took a sip of his beer, “she might if she’s wearing her cowboy boots like she keeps saying she is.”

“She’s wearing her boots?” Bill snorted from Frank’s left.

Frank shrugged. “I don’t give a shit; she can wear what she wants. As long as I get that ring on her finger, doesn’t bother me.”

Mike chuckled before he excused himself, having been called away by a member of staff and Frank sighed, turning to Bill.

“Feels like I’ve been waiting for this forever.”

“What, your stag do?”

“No, marrying Fliss!” Frank shook his head as Bill snorted, the pair of them turning to watch the pool tournament that they’d both been spectacularly knocked out of in the early rounds as it was reaching a conclusion. Simon was facing off against Steve, and as ever, Fliss’ older brother was in a fiercely, competitive mood.

“Well,” Bill took a sip of his drink, “you’ve both been through a hell of lot when you think about it. You’ve been together, what…”

“Coming up three years.” Frank answered. “Engaged for almost two.”

“Had a baby…”

“Yeah.” A soft smile spread across Frank’s face. “God, he’s fucking awesome, Bill.”

“Adopted Mary.”

“She’s awesome too.”

“Repaired your relationship with your mother, you’ve built yourself a home, twice if you count the first apartment we did up and you moved into. You’ve helped Fliss expand the yard, you’ve changed jobs and built a career, and yes, I know that’s still a little bit of a niggle at the moment but,” Bill shrugged, “it’s a hell of a lot to cram into three years. And that’s without mentioning the shit that dead cunt tried to pull, or the trouble you had with Pud’s waste of a space sperm donor. And we won’t mention that because this…” Bill’s elbow slipped a little as he rest it on the bar, waving his hand around, “because this is a happy night.”

Frank nodded, clinking his glass against his soon-to-be father-in-law’s. “Amen.”

The two men took a sip of their drink and Frank looked across the bar before he suddenly had the urge to bare his soul to the man stood beside him, but not before he ordered them both another pint. Once the cool beers were slid over the bar he turned to Bill.

“Can I tell you something, Billy?” Frank asked, and without waiting for an answer, he continued. “I really don’t know how, I mean I can’t even remember my life before her. You know? Like, I was an asshole and a different girl every weekend but when I met her it just changed. And I didn’t even look back.”

“Frankie, my boy…” Bill smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s love for you, son. You’re the second chance she deserved the first time and it warms my old heart to see her so happy.”

“Yeah, but I don’t just love her…like, I really love her.” Frank continued. “You know, she loves Mary and never hesitated. Right from the off. And then we had Alex and…she's an amazing mother.”

“That’s Lissy for you. Heart and soul into everything.” Bill smiled and Frank dropped his eyes to his pint momentarily, before he looked up.

“And thank you, too. You and V both, but you…well, you stepped in as someone I've come to respect and admire in my life, someone I love as a father. I appreciate you, Bill.”

Bill took a deep breath and beamed, his eyes watering from emotion, or alcohol, Frank wasn’t sure. But then when Bill spoke he knew his words were from the heart.

“Frank, when you join the Gallaghers, you’re in for life.” He smiled. “Yeah, I’ll admit, I was worried at first, we all were, after everything she went through but, well, we knew a few weeks in that you were in it for keeps.” He smiled, holding his glass up. “And here we are. Two weeks off your wedding date.”

“Yeah…” Frank grinned, clinking his glass against Bill’s. “Fourteen days, I’m counting them all.”

Shortly after, Frank felt the pressure in his bladder and excused himself to take a piss. After he’d finished in the bathroom he then, for some reason, ended up on the decking outside. He stood by the edge, leaning on the wooden railings as the various people behind him continued their chatter and drinking.

The temperature had dropped a little, and Frank took a deep breath, the cool night ocean breeze sobering him up a second and, as he watched the reflection of the moon and the lights of the bar bouncing off the surface of the waves, his mind moved to what was to come.

He was marrying the love of his life. The mother of his son, the woman who’d become a mother as he’d become a father to his niece. The person who’d seen him at, quite possibly, the lowest part of his life and loved him without a second’s hesitation.

And God, did he love her with the same ardour. As he thought about how he’d left her before, on the couch with their one year old son, he found his mind straying to his own father. He wished his dad could have met Fliss. They’d have gotten on like a house on fire. Hell, Diane would have maybe opened up to her eventually too, but then again, if Diane, and his Dad come to think of it, were here, he'd most likely never have felt the need to escape his mother the way he did. He’d still be teaching in Boston.

And he wouldn't have met Fliss in the first place.

Damned, that was a mad, sad twist of fate. As much as he wished his family was still all around, and had never been torn apart, it physically hurt his heart to think of his life before Fliss…was that fucked up? To be almost grateful life had worked out the way it had?

He jumped a little as a hand slapped him on the shoulder, bringing him out of his thoughts. He turned to see Greg stood by his side.

“Wondered where you’d got to. The killer tournament’s finished so Simon’s lining up another. You in?”

Frank smiled. “Yeah, sure.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, was just thinking about stuff.”

“Not second thoughts, I hope?”

“Fuck no!” Frank scoffed, “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

“Good to know, because if you were about to back out, well, her dad and brother are huge, get what I’m saying?”

The two men laughed and headed back into the bar, Frank greeted by more cheers as he made his way back over, another shot of tequila being thrust into his hands.

The tournament struck up, and Frank found himself recalling his first date with Fliss, explaining how she’d hustled him big time and he realised there and then he’d found his match. Somehow the conversation then steered to the rest of the men talking about how they met their respective partners. Bill eagerly told the tale about how he’d met Verity, and how shockingly like Fliss she had been at that age, when Simon stood up straight, chalking the end of his cue.

“Well, you know that they say,” He grinned. “if you wanna know what your girl will look like in her older years check her mom out.”

“Well, Verity is a stunning woman.” Frank shrugged.

“Yeah, she is,” Bill paused, “and she has great tits."

The entire group let out a laugh as Frank choked on his beer, Steve’s groan audible over the noise. “Seriously, Dad?”

“What?” Bill looked at his son. “You think that because I’m almost seventy we don’t do it anymore?”

“Fucking hell.” Frank shook his head

“I need shots...” Steve turned to the bar. “Lots of shots.”

**** Fliss was in the family room when Thor sat bolt upright from where he’d been sprawled beside her on the sofa, his head cocking to one side. Then, she heard the gravel of the drive crunching, accompanied by the opening and shutting of car doors, and hushed voices. A glance at the clock told her it was one in the morning. Whilst she hadn’t been intending on staying up on purpose for Frank to get home, she’d gotten engrossed in a film and had taken the opportunity to crack open a bottle of wine and relax whilst both kids were in bed, and she had the house to herself.

She then heard her brother’s laugh and there was some noise at the front door, Frank’s voice ringing out along with the sounds of a key being scraped along the lock. She waited, as the voices grew louder before she stood up and made her way into the hall. She opened the door to see Frank in between her brother and dad, a glazed, drunk expression on his face as he was paused, hand outstretched, key where the lock should have been.

“Heyyyy, baby!” He beamed. “Look,” he turned to Bill, “there she is, my Lissy.”

“Here I am.” Fliss chuckled, “someone had a good night.”

“We need a new lock.” Frank looked at Fliss. “The key doesn’t fit this one.”

“No, you just couldn’t find the hole…”

“You’ve never had any complaints before.” Frank quipped back, and at that Steve sniggered. Bill, however frowned.

“No, that’s…don’t…”

“Dad, they’ve had a kid.” Steve shook his head. “And after what you said in the bar, you’ve no room to talk.”

Bill hiccupped a little, as Frank stepped into the hallway. “Speaking of which, we should go, your mum might be-“

“Okay, stop, right there.” Fliss groaned. “That’s gross. So…yeah, just don’t.”

With a grin Bill swayed on the spot at little as Frank dropped a huge, sloppy kiss to Fliss’ cheek. “Trick to a successful marriage, my girl. Keep the passion alive.”

“Oh Jesus.” Fliss groaned as Steve and Frank laughed. “Shut up, you’ll wake the kids!”

Frank slapped a hand over his mouth as Steve saluted her. “Yes Ma’am.”

It took Fliss another two minutes or so, but eventually she had finally managed to get rid of her dad and brother off the step and into the cab. She shut the door behind them and then walked into the family room to see Frank, leaning unsteadily against the kitchen counter.

“Flissy, you gonna marry me?” He grinned.

“Yes, Baby, I am. You know this.”

“No, but, Friss, can we jus... jus... hang on.” He paused, holding up his finger, clearly having to think about what he was trying to say, “Lissy, I jus wanna get married now, fuck all the rest.”

“Fuck the rest of what, Sailor?” Fliss watched him, trying her best not to laugh.

“Well I wanna fuck you.” He grinned and at that she snorted.

“What else is new?" “But look, ser... sersly, fuck everything and let's just go in the morning.” Frank slurred as he gestured with his hand. “Mary can be the business... No, witness.” “Okay. Whatever you say baby. We’ll just cancel the beach and the tent and all the food and go tomorrow morning.” Fliss agreed.

Frank nodded, and then grinned.

“Fliss?”

“Frank?”

“Can I bend you over this counter?” He pat the surface as he wiggled his brows.

“Maybe tomorrow.” Fliss nodded. “Now, I think we should go to bed.” Frank smirked and she rolled her eyes. “Come on.”

With a monumental effort, she managed to turn off the lights and TV and got Frank to the stairs. He’d made it up them all more or less before he tripped and then lay down, his head resting on the carpeted floor of the landing.

“Hmmm, maybe I’ll rest here.”

“Frank, you can’t sleep here.” Fliss sighed.

“But it's so.... soft.”

“The beds even softer, sweetheart. Come on, I’ll let you rest your head on my chest and I’ll stroke your hair.” Fliss coaxed, but nothing. His eyes were closed and he simply smiled, rubbing his face against the carpet.

Fliss looked at him, before she rolled her eyes and stepped over him, deciding to leave him where he was. She couldn’t pick him up, and she couldn’t make him move if he didn’t want to. He would come to no harm, might even end up with Fred as a pillow.

She walked towards their room, when with a total delayed response, to her offer, Frank’s head shot up and he looked up at her.

“Wait, I’m coming.”

He stumbled to his feet, banging into the wall a little, and Fliss was just about to tell him to keep the noise down when the door to Mary’s room flew open.

“You woke me up.” Mary glared at him, her arms folded.

“So?” Frank shrugged. “It’s Stackersday, Sat…I mean Satursday, Stack…”

“Technically now it’s Sunday.” She replied. “As it’s like half past one in the-“

“Shhhh.” Frank cut her off, holding his finger out to cover her lips. “No one cares.”

Mary looked at Fliss who merely shrugged, biting her lip as she tried not to laugh at the indignant look their daughter sported. With a final groan, and a shot at him being a pain in the ass, Mary rolled her eyes and turned back, shutting the door behind her.

“Did she just call me a pain in the ass?” Frank wobbled over to Fliss who nodded.

“She’s not wrong.” Fliss mused and Frank narrowed his eyes.

“You’re the pain in a ass.”

“Why?”

“I know you made them all wear those shirts and hats.” He hiccupped as he followed her into their bedroom. "You...yous sneak... brat" "Words, Sailor. Complete sentences." Fliss helped him out of his jacket and Frank shook his head.

“Mmmm nope."

Eventually, Fliss managed to get him out of his suit, ignoring his various quips about her getting him naked and once he was down to his boxers she ushered him into the adjoined bathroom. After he’d taken a pee, Fliss heard him stumbling about as he flushed and washed, before he staggered back into the main room. He landed with a loud huff on the bed, before he rolled onto his back and managed to wrestle under the covers.

Fliss settled besides him and he shifted onto his side, reaching out to give her a soft kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She smiled back.

“No, but I really love you.” Frank urged. “So much, I can’t…”

“Frankie, I know. I get it.” She whispered, kissing him again. “Now come on, do you need some water before you got to sleep?”

“Nope.” He shook his head as he propped himself up a little, slipping before he steadied himself on his elbow. He glanced at her in the soft light of the lamp and grinned. “Your boobs really are great Liss.”

“Thanks.” She arched her brow.

“Like, I just...” he moved his left hand and gave one a squeeze. “They’re so pert…and round. And they fed Alex…”

Fliss snorted as she turned and flicked off the lamp before she settled down, her hand guiding his head onto her chest.

“Like pillows…marshmallows.” Frank’s voice was muffled as she snuggled into her chest.

Less than two minutes later, he was out for the count.

With a soft smile, Fliss kissed his head. Despite him being a pain in the ass, she kinda liked it when he came home drunk. He turned into such a huge, soft meatball and she adored it.

“You’re going to be such a hungover Cranky Frankie tomorrow, Handsome,” she whispered as he slept, his soft snores filling the room, “and I don’t fancy being in your shoes when Mary gets her own back on you for waking her up.”

**** Ch 28 Part 3

#riding on #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #gifted #gifted fan fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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daretosnoop · 3 years ago

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Describing all the games in the most simple summary that’s also kinda messed up cause I’m not able to sleep

SCK: American education: Talk shit about the dead guy, take drugs, cheat, then pull a gun on a random person to secure your place in college

STFD: protect a sleezy guy from a guy who obsesses over women

MHM: Take a tip from Rose to value the house over the people by dropping a chandelier on someone

TRT: Destroying history is totally okay for your 15 min of fame a.k.a we learned nothing from the origins of western archeology and history

FIN: Capitalism shows once again that it values profit over people

SSH: Smuggling: part two of we learned nothing from the origins of western archeology and history x10 cause we’re dealing with a non-Western culture

DOG: Harass a woman with seeing and hearing ghost dogs till she’s too scared to leave the house and then scoff and accuse her “imagination” getting the best of her

CAR: Let’s just ignore the need for a therapist for the carousel creator, Joy, her father, and probably Harlan. Have a banana instead.

DDI: Environmentalism and animal protection is cool until it harms business, then it’s a big “we will outcast you” no no.

SHA: Forgive me lord for the temptation in this sweltering heat: is it love or a concussion by Charleena Prucell

CUR: white parenting allows a 12 year old to get away with drugging and mentally harassing her stepmother.

CLK: Gee golly, why don’t I just bank on some stranger’s promise to give us money rather than teach my daughter how to run an inn. Surely nothing could go wrong?

TRN: Is there love in the air or is that just Engine gas? A novel by Charleena Prucell

DAN: Woman resorts to having a *German soldier* boyfriend during ww2 and then proceeds to steal glass and proceeds to get upset when people don’t appreciate her.

CRE: Lets commodify Indigenous culture and then sideline the people for a white man’s anger.

ICE: Part 2 of: Environmentalism and animal protection is cool until it harms business, now with added cultural stereotypes and radiation

CRY: let’s strip a person of his parents, family, emotional support, friends, and love then stand back and watch him cry.

VEN: Every mafia crime story has its version of a strip club

HAU: Let’s ignore the fact that Fiona’s dad helped Nazis for no apparent reason and fixate on a potential groom who ran away and a banshee. Oh the Irish, *laughs in British racism*

RAN: Of course I care about my kidnaped friends, she says as she strolls along the beach looking for treasure

WAV: As usual the hall monitor does not notice the rampant bullying that goes on and instead focuses on giving out demerits

TOT: Local professor with behavioural issues, is upset that poorly funded collage refuses to give him the promotion and support he is entitled to

SAW: let’s girl boss, gate keep, and gas light our lives so much that we need a white foreigner to sort things out for us

CAP: when a bunch of young girls disappear from an area it’s easier to blame a monster and carry on than investigate

ASH: Heroine’s whiteness allows her to investigate her own criminal case, touch the evidence, wander around a police office despite being arrested, eat a picnic lunch at said police office, and chit chat with friends in order to formulate a case for her dad to take on

TMB: Let’s be astounded by the reign and capability of a non-western civilization and rebuke it by playing into the stereotype of aliens.

DED: Once again capitalism cares more about money than people as the Edison metaphor kills the Tesla metaphor

GTH: Let’s ignore a white family’s historical involvement with slavery and instead focus on a missing bride and a ghost.

SPY: Bored white man decides to unleash a virus into the population

LIE: Smuggling but we take jt seriously this time

SEA: let’s ignore the prejudice behaviour of the town in order to find a missing captain

#nancy drew

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regrettablewritings · 4 years ago

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Preference: Surviving the Holidays

Characters: Dewey Finn, Peter B. Parker, Tadashi Hamada, Bruce Wayne

Dewey Finn: Thanksgiving

Dewey’s relationship with Thanksgiving was wack, for lack of a better word. Really that could be said for his relationship with most holidays, but what made Thanksgiving stand out ever so slightly was just how obsessively tied to gatherings with loved ones it was when compared to other holidays: You could party for Christmas; you could party for New Years; you couldn’t really party for Thanksgiving. And given that most of his time growing up was just himself and his ma . . .Yeah, the guy wasn’t too crazy about what he considered to be a sham of a holiday. (Plus, he didn’t vibe with the parade.)

And none of that lessened as he got older, with his relationship with his mother becoming more and more strained. After a while, the most he really got from the holiday was tagging along accompanying Ned to his own family’s place. But once Patty came along, that window of opportunity closed.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t long for it. Quite the contrary, it had become sour grapes for Dewey: He could gripe and sneer about Thanksgiving being a “boring-ass” wannabe day all he wanted to; the truth simply was that deep down, he knew he wouldn’t really mind the idea of being in the presence of somebody who loved and appreciated him enough to share a meal with him. Or to be thankful that he was in their lives and wanted him to know it.

That, and he missed the option of not having to stay cooped up in the apartment he mooched off in, eating Kraft Mac straight out the pot while imagining others elsewhere eating homemade baked macaroni as a side to a much more delicious and filling meal.

You personally didn’t feel especially impassioned by the day one way or another to be frank. At least, not usually. You weren’t sure what had gotten into you -- maybe it was because the two of you had just moved in together and wanted to make a statement, or maybe the spirit of the season had finally possessed the both of you, or maybe it was because the delirium of moving in two weeks before a holiday had finally taken its hold (moving is statistically one of the most stressful events in a person’s life, after all) -- but there was a newfound determination in trying to “get this right.”

Of course, there’s nothing and no one who says that a house only becomes a home once it has been christened by a successful feast. But there was a sense of maturity that did come with the idea of holding down even a dinner for two that wasn’t picked up from the deli down the street, or delivered by some knock-kneed cyclist. And it was a maturity the both of you were far too eager to acquire.

Never mind the fact that most of your kitchenware was still lost amongst the boxes (what few of them you could fit in the glorified Fruit-By-the-Foot box you called an apartment). Or that you guys were on a budget. Or that the dinner table was an old plastic collapsible one reminiscent of the tables put up at parties held in gymnasiums. You two were adults, goddammit, and you were going to pull this off at least once! Just once, and things would go back to normal.

. . .

Like most things that tended to involve the great Dewey Finn, you had no idea how this happened.

There was no turkey, no green beans or corn on the cob or even mashed potatoes or a pumpkin pie. Instead, what cluttered the table was a plate of Bagel Bites, tater tots, a plastic case of Lofthouse cookies, and, of course, some Kraft Mac. Neither one of you said anything. At least, not out loud. But the sheepish expressions you gave one another said everything.

Time had gotten away from you both. As did proper ingredients to prepare the more traditional meals associated with the day. You supposed that, in a panicked haze, the both of you wound up grabbing and putting together whatever you could to salvage your pride efforts but you began to suspect that that might not’ve been enough.

“. . . At least we beat Snoopy’s meal,” Dewey tried. A beat passed. Then a snort.

“S-shut up!” you cried. How dare he criticize an animated beagle’s meal of popcorn and toast? Though you had to admit, he had a point: You’d take pizza-decorated bagelettes over popcorn any day -- including Thanksgiving Day, apparently.

In the end, it wasn’t the most . . . traditional situation. And it certainly wasn’t enough to change Dewey’s mind about the day. But you both had to agree: It was a feast that certainly christened your new home together as your own. And for that, you were quite thankful.

Peter B. Parker: Hanukkah

While it wasn’t the most important holiday on the Jewish calendar, Hanukkah still held a heavy level of importance in Peter’s heart. Growing up, it had served as a foundation for so many things in his life: In certain traditions, stability was established; in the togetherness it garnered, there was love; and in the activities partaken, there were memories. Memories of helping Aunt May in the kitchen and of Uncle Ben determining him to be old enough to recite the proper prayers. Of lighting the menorah and setting the room aglow with the history of a miracle . . .

It was therefore a huge regret of Peter’s when he had foregone observing both the winter holiday, as well as many others in his culture during the more recent years when his life began to slip and slide out of control. So when he reemerged from Miles’ dimension, ready and willing to take a chance on life again, it was only natural that Peter was also ready and willing to bring back more positive habits and influences – celebrating Hanukkah included.

And with you, now present in his life and curious and eager as ever, he couldn’t help but feel all the more encouraged to share it. And maybe perhaps show off. Just a little.

For example, once you removed the whole Spider-Man situation, Peter was a pretty simple guy. Especially when it came to foods: Far be it from Peter B. Parker to turn down a burger with some fries or some pizza or street food. So that’s what made it stick out all the more when, after the first night he announced his decision to attempt making challah. Followed by some latkes. Maybe a babka as well. And some sufganiyot. Never mind that he had never actually made some of these without the more experienced Aunt May taking up most of the task. But he was determined and literally and metaphorically hungry for success, and who were you to question his ambitions?

. . . Apparently somewhat saner and more aware than he was. The babka and latkes were simple enough, thankfully. But the sufganiyot? Peter couldn’t fry like that; not with the best materials money could by, when said money was provided on the budget of two people trying to make it in one of the pricier boroughs of New York. And the less said about the challah process, probably the better. . . . Though you still had plenty to say.

“You’re a spider, Peter – why is your weaving coming out so weird?” you questioned, eyeballing the tangled mess of dough. Peter huffed, trying to keep his glower on his failed efforts, rather than redirecting it at you.

“It’s not my fault the guy moves too fast,” he said, referring to the tutorial you had both played on loop. He muttered something along the lines of “for beginners, my ass.” At this rate, the real holiday miracle would be if you not only braided the challah correctly, but also if you didn’t burn down the raggedy apartment. You wanted to say that there would be no shame in calling it and just going to one of the nearby Jewish bakeries for a loaf, but your partner seemed invigorated by spite-induced determination to see this task through.

Never mind that the strands of dough flopped against one another in spite of his best efforts. At this point, it resembled less of a perfect princess braid and more like a flattened Tangela. It was pitiful, really, but you had to admit: The pout his failed efforts had earned him was cute. You didn’t want to think lightly of what he was deeming a situation, but it was quite nice seeing him like this at all. When you had first met he was quite nearly the opposite, all grumpy and aloof and wanting nothing to do with you.

Who would’ve guessed that in due time, he’d become the very man who stood before you, eager to interact with you and bond with you, sharing moments like these . . . Moments which you wish he would just go ahead and enjoy along with you.

“Hey, Peter?”

“Ye -- ” A small blast of flour collided with his crooked nose, stopping the man short. “HEY!” He cracked one eye open just enough to glare at your grinning face.

“Don’t be such a Grinch, Peeby -- ”

“Wrong holiday,” your boyfriend snarked as he wiped his face.

“Hush. Anyway, we still got a few more nights to figure this out,” you reminded. You placed a quick peck on his powdery cheek for good measure. His shoulders slumped with a sigh. As much as he didn’t want to say it, he knew you had a point. Maybe he had gotten a bit too (literally) wrapped up in getting all this right. Though he did feel his spirits lift somewhat as you placed your hand over his with assurance.

Somewhat. All that was missing was --

Pff!

“UGH! PETER!” Your hands flew to your face in an effort to wipe away the fistful of flour that now caked it. All the while, the offender himself laughed. He was probably going to have to appease you with some chocolate gelt “for damages” but as far as he was concerned, it was worth it. After all, what better way to share these important moments than with his favorite person?

Tadashi Hamada: Christmas

A local little cafe in the heart of San Fransokyo was simultaneously the best place to be for the holiday season, and the worst. The great things about it were the cute store-bought and homemade decorations that decked the cozy halls of the establishment; the seasonal baked goods and sandwich specials that made the Lucky Cat smell like cinnamon or roasted turkey; the cozy feeling that welcomed you like a hug whenever you walked in.

Alternatively, there was the whole to-do with picky or rude customers coming in from out of town; the saturation of Christmas music screeching through the speakers; and way-too-hype women taking up tables for hours at a time after spending the day shopping (and clogging the already small aisles with the bags from said shopping).

But all in all, Tadashi made it all better.

Having grown up in the Lucky Cat, he’d long since learned how to cancel out the grinchiness the holiday season brought out, and was more than happy to help you do the same using his own methods. If you focused on the little things, he figured, you could attach sweeter memories and associations to them. Especially if you veered a little off the usual path.

Sure, there was joining him in the kitchen to prepare and bake cranberry-speckled pastries and frost cookies to resemble familiar holiday characters and items. But there was also stringing popcorn garlands together (“Tadashi, you’re the youngest 70-something year-old I have ever met.” “Hush, you; I’m doing you a favor by laying my Christmas cheer all over you.” “Phrasing, ‘Dashi, geez!”). But at the end of the day, there was one thing in particular that your boyfriend did to sweeten the deal. The one thing only someone like Tadashi could do: Snowball fight a la manipulation of barometric pressure.

Following the incident with the snow machine two years ago, Tadashi had to make a promise to Aunt Cass to only use it outside. Away from the house. That suited Tadashi just fine. After all: What better way to pelt your loved one in the face using snow warfare than to do so in a wide-open space like the park? And while those fortunate (and unfortunate) enough to have come upon the unusual winter wonderland he had created, the facts still stood: This was about you and him. You vs him, diving behind mounds of snow, screeching with both joy and discomfort whenever the snow made an impact against bare skin, eyes tearing up from the cold . . .

You could’ve done this for hours, especially since you were pretty positive Tadashi was letting you win. If only he hadn’t called for an armistice.

“ ‘Armistice’? For what? You scared I’ll beat your butt again?” you taunted through chattering teeth.

“No, you ding-dong,” Tadashi shook his head. “Look at you: You’re clearly at your limit with the cold.”

“Nuh-uh!” As if to betray you, your body gave a sudden jolt; a release of shivers like a spring being let loose after coiling. As if unimpressed, the young man reached for your gloved hands and gave one a gentle squeeze.

“Does that hurt?” he questioned.

You winced. “N-no . . .”

You heard him click his tongue. “Ah. Enforced armistice.”

“No fair!” you whined.

“If you sign the treaty, I will include hot cocoa when we get back.”

. . . Well, he could make a mean hot chocolate. Not too sweet, not too bitter, it was perfectly creamy with only the slightest hint of cinnamon for kicks. It was the perfect thing to relax you, causing you to come undone as it’s warmth spread about you inside while the warmth of the kotatsu took care of you on the outside.

“Comfy?” your boyfriend asked. You purred, foregoing a more proper answer just to take another sip of the glorious hot drink. Your enthusiasm earned you a chuckle from him as he inched closer to you. Just enough to hold your hand in his. “For body heat purposes” he might’ve insisted, had you asked. Not that you minded it: It was just what the evening needed to feel complete. Not the goofy, awful ugly sweater he wore that made Rudolph’s nose blink when you pressed a certain spot; not the gentle crooning of Christmas classics sounding from the miniature stereo Tadashi had set up; not even stockings carefully lined along the makeshift mantle, or the presents glimmering beneath the lights of the twinkling tree.

Just the warm feeling of togetherness. That this beautiful man you get to call yours is so willing to share how he celebrates with you. And that you, it turn, get to celebrate with him.

“Hey, you made her cocoa?!” Hiro’s complaining ripped through the air.

And his small but nevertheless vibrant family, of course.

Bruce Wayne: New Years Eve

Let’s face it: New Years Eve sucks. All everyone wants to do is throw a party (even when they actually don’t really want to), the parties are either obnoxiously loud or awkwardly quiet (there is no in-between), there’s never any food because all people wanna do (or have been convinced to do) is drink, and the alcohol is usually crap by the time you get there because everyone already knew to tackle the good booze as soon as they arrived.

Suffice to say, you had some gripes when it came to New Years Eve. And in spite of the luxurious images that tended to come to mind, parties thrown by the wealthy weren’t any different from the average one thrown by the common man. Really, the only difference was that the alcohol was of higher quality and the gatherings were usually held at some large hall like a hotel ballroom or even at a prestigious gallery.

But even if you’d known that beforehand, you still would’ve accompanied Bruce to one such party. Bruce wasn’t fond of them himself, but he needed to at least make an appearance to save face with all the moochers and bigwigs from neighboring industries and enterprises. You were honestly just there for support, though it was just as agonizing for you as it was for him.

Well, at least you didn’t have to actually talk extensively with anyone, you mused. You’d been nursing your drink for the last half hour or so, trying to walk that thin line between going about undisturbed while also not coming across as frigid or wallflowery. Not too far off, you could see Bruce smiling at another partygoer: A buxom ginger, surely an important figure in her own right, but clearly seeing no harm in grinning coquettishly at the affluent Prince of Gotham. You felt no trace of jealousy within you, however. You knew Bruce’s real smile, and the one he was currently providing her wasn’t it in the slightest.

No, the real one was the one he flashed you when he glanced over at you to make sure that you were doing fine off and alone. A sweet, glorious smile that reached his eyes. Though, there were also traces of exhaustion. And you suspected that the smile you returned held just as much because soon after that, you watched him excuse himself from whatever conversation he’d been trying to carry before making his way over to you.

“How’re you holding up?” he inspected.

You shrugged and sighed, “It is what it is. I’m making peace with the fact that the last thing I would’ve eaten this year would’ve been an assortment of cocktail wienies, what I think might’ve been pate, and ginger ale.” You’d meant for it to come across as more humorous, but the dry tone you had delivered your words in ruined the effect.

Bruce winced and offered yet another smile: A wobbly, more sheepish one.

“You ready to go home?”

God, yes.

“No, no,” you replied. “Really, it’s fine. Besides, it’s almost midnight anyway -- it probably wouldn’t look good if Bruce Wayne ditched a party his glorious hosts have so graciously invited him to.”

You watched as your significant other raised his brow. “Honey, I’m Bruce Wayne: I’m known for ditching parties.”

“Oh,” you said simply. Fair point. To your minor relief and slight embarrassment, he huskily chuckled.

“C’mon,” he sighed, placing his hand on your lower back as guidance. “My ass is sore from all the butt-kissing. Let’s go home where it’s warm. And quiet.”

“And we can actually eat!” you chirped, a little too excitedly. Once again, your embarrassment was met with approval.

The outside was both quieter and just as noisy as the inside of the celebration. Quieter because of the muting effect the fallen snow had, but also more lively because of the surrounding restaurants and streets and bars filled with people cheering and blowing party horns and singing in slurred joy. You liked it better than the party, if you had to be honest. But maybe perhaps because as you wandered the snow-caked streets to reach where Bruce had parked the car, you felt his gloved hand wrap around your own.

Of course, it was probably just to keep your hand warm -- maybe even just to make sure you kept pace with him, or that if you wouldn’t fall if you hit a small patch of black ice. But in a little corner of your mind, you couldn’t help but romanticize it: It was like he was accompanying you into the new year in a way. Just you and him. No loud parties, no pressures, no being anywhere or with anyone you didn’t want to be.

“Thanks, by the way.” Bruce broke the silence in a puff of cold air. “I know these really aren’t your thing -- I mean, personally, they aren’t mine, either, but you really didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to. But I appreciate that you . . . that you did.”

Your cheeks burned, though not from the whipping cold of the late December air.

“Of course I did . . .” you reasoned. “I know it sounds goofy but . . . we’re in this together, y’know?” You gave his hand a small squeeze. He squeezed yours right back, but with a bit more power. The warmth of it traveled up into your chest and cheeks. You licked your chapping lips.

“Besides,” you continued, “if I had just stayed home, I would’ve been bored. And probably would’ve given my New Year’s Kiss to Alfred.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, who knows? New year, new me, right?”

You couldn’t have imagined what Bruce would’ve responded with next if it weren’t for the sudden distraction: The air, disorderly and sloppy mere seconds before, had all at once seemed to become uniform with the sounds of chanting. A count down.

You’d lived through so many New Years before, you weren’t quite sure what made this one different. There was no reason for you to pause as you did, your heart suddenly thundering in your chest at the realization of what was to come. It was just another year, right? A new year with new promises, new disappointments, new surprises both good and bad, new --

“ -- two! One! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!”

You had barely had a moment to register the words before you became distracted with registering something entirely different: A pair of warm lips pressed against your own, the feeling of large arms wrapped about your waist to pull you in close.

As he parted from you, Bruce flashed you one of his real smiles once more. One that denoted the mischief only you were truly privy to.

“Beat him to it,” he teased.

And for as shocked as you were over the exchange of the midnight kiss, you couldn’t help but blink . . . and find yourself in a giggling fit. That was why this year felt different: You had never had a boyfriend on New Years before. Scratch that: You had never had Bruce for New Years. And that made a world of difference. You didn’t want to make any assumptions but . . . it was a pretty great way to start a new year, if you did say so yourself.

#dewey finn x reader #peter b parker x reader #tadashi hamada x reader #bruce wayne x reader #Batman x reader #Dewey Finn #Dewey Finn imagine #Dewey Finn imagines #Peter b Parker imagine #Peter b Parker imagines #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne imagines #Tadashi Hamada imagine #Tadashi Hamada imagines #school of rock imagines #spiderman into the spiderverse imagines #big hero six imagines #dceu imagines #*casually posts this like 2/4 of these holidays haven't already happened*#Peter B. Parker is Jewish and I don’t see enough people openly acknowledging this #he’s Jewish m’kay? and you can’t argue otherwise because it’s canon as hell #...really tho based on some intricacies here the only one on this list who probably isn’t Jewish or of Jewish descent is Tadashi #just sayin #happy holidays y'all #preference #preferences

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hepaidattention · 3 years ago

Text

denial

part 5

where Allison never died in s3 and Lydia and Stiles are going strong in the flirting game but still stubborn, so Allison decides to set them up (with Scott’s help of course).

read part one, two, three and four here

Scott was shaking his head, his arms propped up on the lunch table with hands intertwined and placed in front of his chin. “I don’t know...” he looked deeply concerned, like he didn’t trust any plan that didn’t come from the mouth of Stiles. “Are you sure, Allison? ‘Cause it seems...”

“Genius? Brilliant?” she smirked, plopping a tater tot in her mouth with sass.

“I was going to say messy.”

“Scott, relax. It’s going to work.” Allison was sure it would. Lydia was the most jealous person she knew - there’s no way this wouldn’t.

Before Scott could voice more of his doubts, Lydia dropped into her chair with a huff. “God, I despise this school’s feeble attempt of a sustainable meal. I knew I should have packed my own.” Lydia grumbled. Neither Scott nor Allison answered though. They were just looking at her. Lydia felt uncomfortable under their insinuating stares so she looked over her shoulder, then over Scott’s head for a distraction. “Where’s Stiles?”

Allison was eating tater tots with a face that was purely devious. “Don’t know, haven’t seen him since class. Got any plans?”

Lydia’s head dragged back to meet Allison’s treacherous gaze. “No, I was just going to ask him how his test went.”

“Right, right,” Allison spun her fork between her fingers, the tot sitting on the ends of the four prongs. “What was his test on again?”

Lydia’s cheek smashed into her fist as her other hand used her fork to pick at the questionable food on her plate. “Uh, I think it was A&P,”

“Oh, well that’s great, Lydia - you know plenty about that subject, right?” Allison had a teasing tone, but even Scott found it slightly cruel. They could both tell where she was going with it. Lydia kicked her from under the table in, but Allison continued with, “Maybe you could help him study next time, you know, give him a few anatomy lessons of your own.”

Lydia threw a tater at her head. Allison dodged it. Lydia looked at Scott and he was avoiding all eye contact, so she knew that meant he knew now. If he didn’t, he’d just be looking at them like a deer in the headlights. “You told him?” Lydia hissed across the table.

Allison shook her head, trying everything not to laugh. “No, I promise I didn’t.”

“I- I sorta already knew,” Scott awkwardly scratched his chin, his voice timid and sweet. “Stiles told me, you know, when it happened.”

Lydia was trying not to shrink into her seat and cower. “You’re evil.” Lydia told the grinning Allison.

She shrugged, her eyebrows dancing as she ate the tater tot from her fork. “You know, you’re right, Lyds. I am being unfair. Obviously you’re just friends with Stiles, and I realized - I just want to see Stiles happy. I mean, don’t we all? He’s had a such rough year, and I think he deserves some happiness - so me and Scott think we should try to set him up with someone.”

Lydia’s face fell, her eyes unblinking. “You... want to set up Stiles...Stilinski?”

“Yup, kind of the only Stiles we know,” she nodded enthusiastically. “At first I clearly had you in mind, but once you said how you’d be happy to see him with someone else I realized you really were just friends and I’m not going to push something that’s not meant to be. Now, now I’m thinking about Ginny Green. She looked really into him, and I mean she’s super sweet.”

“And hot,” Scott meekly added, still feeling morally wrong in this plan. Also morally wrong in subjecting people, so he added, “But more importantly, she’s sweet.”

“Yes, so true,” Allison gestured towards Scott and dramatically dropped her arms to the table. “So hot. What do you think, Lydia? I mean, obviously you know Stiles way better than I do, so we really need your help in this whole thing.”

Lydia pursed her lips, her cheek still resting on her fist like she was bored with this conversation. “I think you’re full of bullshit.”

Allison scrunched up her nose, her eyes squinting with it. “Tell that to Ginny Green.” She pointed behind her.

Lydia whipped around, seeing Ginny making her way to the table with a tray of food. Lydia looked back at Allison in horror. “You didn’t.”

Allison was waving at her, her face appearing innocent and friendly. However, the look Allison gave Lydia was nothing but conniving and wicked. “Why? Do you think someone else would be a better fit?”

Lydia gave up on Allison. She looked at Scott for help, but he just ducked his head and pretended he had been eating this whole time. Ginny sat down beside Allison, and Lydia wanted to punch her right of her seat. God, Lydia hated Ginny Green. No, it wasn’t because she liked Stiles either. Ginny Green had been more of a bitch than Lydia herself since 2nd grade. Everyone knew her as sweet Ginny but Lydia could smell a bitch a mile away. It was always the bitches who pretended to be nice that made her skin crawl. At least own up to it, god.

“Hey everyone,” Ginny gave a sickly sweet smile that made Lydia was to puke.

“Hey Ginny,” Scott was genuine, it hurt Lydia’s heart just how genuine and nice that boy was.

Ginny grinned and looked at Lydia. “Hey Lydia,” The stink eye she gave her, with the pursed lips and carping glare she bestowed, it was enough for Lydia to just leave the table. However, Stiles just then flopped in his chair beside her before she could make a move to leave. Now she couldn’t leave, then Allison would be proving her point, as well as trying to set up loyal, unwavering-love Stiles with the Wicked Witch of the East. Stiles was not about to become one of her flying monkeys - not if she had anything to do with it.

“Hey,” he said just to her. It was quiet and warm, and he meant it for Lydia and Lydia alone as he smiled at her with her golden honey eyes.

“Hey back,” she felt her nerves calm some. Stiles said hi to everyone else at the table, but mostly to the new guest. He was enthused to speak to someone new, so engrossed into a conversation about things that weren’t supernatural for once, that Stiles failed to notice the not very subtle hints of flirting Ginny kept offering to him. Stiles never reciprocated, he was too oblivious for it. But he never once stopped talking - Ginny knew all the right questions to ask. Almost as if someone, and by someone she meant Scott and Allison, had given her a Stiles 101 guide book beforehand.

At one point, Lydia wasn’t entirely sure when, Kira and Isaac joined the table. Kira and Scott were quiet and she thinks flirting, its hard to tell with them. They’re both so awkward sometimes. Isaac didn’t say much, he just listened to Ginny and Stiles blab while he held Allison’s hand under the table.

Lydia had said nothing, not even once. She didn’t want to interrupt, Stiles clearly was enjoying himself, but she also was very quiet due to her growing hate for Ginny Green. Not to mention a new found hate for a certain Allison Argent’s antics. Not Allison herself, she could never, but her devotion to making her life a living hell was becoming a new found loathing for her.

Much to her surprise, when the conversation transferred from Ginny and Stiles to Ginny and Kira for a moment, Lydia felt a hand reach in her lab and grab her hand. Lydia looked down, Stiles’ fingers entangling with hers. She looked up to meet his eyes, wondering what on earth he was doing, when she realized he was silently asking her if she was okay. There was a flutter in her chest, squeezing his hand and forcing a smile up at him. That seemed to satisfy Stiles, but he didn’t let go of her hand. They were holding hands under the table, and she didn’t want to let go. The thing was, it was obvious, too. The way Stiles’ arm had to angle, anyone at the table who had eyes could tell his hand was in her lap. Lydia wasn’t sure if maybe she too was a little evil, because she couldn’t make herself let go, despite the gaze of Ginny Green looking between them with a flicker of sadness and disappointment in her eyes. Stiles was clueless too, using his free hand to eat his lunch as he continued to talk about whatever their conversation had headed to now.

His hand stayed there for a couple minutes, Lydia appreciating his tender concern and the feel of his hand in hers too much to make them separate. It wasn’t until Lydia felt like she was being stared at that her grasp loosened. She looked over at Allison (across from her), and Scott (who sat at the end), both watching them with smug expressions. This immediately made Lydia snap her hand away from his and suddenly stand up at the lunch table, excusing herself abruptly.

Allison was happy with the outcome, but Scott was not. Scott looked guilty, Stiles looked confused, Ginny looked pleased, and Isaac and Kira just shrugged it off as moody Lydia.

“... You know what I mean?” Ginny said, talking to Stiles. His mind, however, was a little preoccupied with watching Lydia storm out of the cafeteria. “Stiles?” Ginny questioned, but everyone knew that he was a goner. A few seconds later he got up, without excuse, and followed Lydia's trail.

Ginny looked insulted. “What’s their deal?”

“They’re like in love or something,” Isaac informed, before anyone else could interject. Once everyone made it blatantly obvious that was the wrong answer, Isaac tried to laugh it off with a, “Uh, hell, like I know, right? Ha, they’re uh... I’m sure they’ll be right back.”

The table went silent. Ginny, without another word, stood up and left the table (leaving her untouched food for them to deal with).

Scott let out a chest rattling sigh. “Are you happy now?” he said to Allison, his face in the palm of his hands.

“Yes, perfectly.” Allison shimmied her shoulders and popped another tater tot in her mouth in enjoyment of her success. “It’s all going just as I planned.”

read part 6 here

#stydia fic #stydia #teen wolf fanfiction #denial stydia series #my stories #my stydia fics

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